


Say My Name

by 0KKULTiC



Series: We Would Be Savage [7]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Captain!Hongjoong, Caves, Country & Western, Cyborg!Yeosang, Enemies to Lovers, Fighting, Fights, FirstMate!Wooyoung, Fist Fights, M/M, Outer Space, PilotHybrid!Yunho, Prince!Mingi, Sci-Fi, Science Fiction, Siren!San, Slow Burn, Space Pirates, Space Ships, StrongBoy!Jongho, The Abandoned Mineshaft Outside of Town, Violence, Western, part of a series, space travel, space western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 49,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21645679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0KKULTiC/pseuds/0KKULTiC
Summary: Dust.Dust as far as the eye can see. Somewhere between the dunes and crags of Earth FM0198 sits a town called Tass. Beyond it, a blinking beacon beckons the only crew of explorers crazy enough to follow the Compass's twisted trail. "Small settlement hospitality" is what they call their brand of manners in the outer reaches. The last thing ATEEZ's crew wants is trouble, but even in the most quaint colonies, when the dust settles, sinister things can surface.Though they can't make out their faces, the sinister do have a name. The townspeople call them something simple:"Them fellas in black."
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: We Would Be Savage [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1339036
Comments: 325
Kudos: 658
Collections: We Would Be Savage: The Treasure Room





	1. Chapter 1

Hongjoong stretches languidly as a yawn rakes over his entire body. He rubs a wrist roughly over his eyes, trying to smear away the sleepiness blurring his vision. One second, he’d been poring over star charts, trying to predict the trajectory of the Compass’s points. Somehow, he’d ended up eating his notes. He’s not sure how. A stray piece of paper sticks to the captain’s cheek as he sits up. He swats at it until the slip detaches, drifting off somewhere toward the floor.

“Urgh…” Hongjoong groans. He eyes the mess of paper on his working table in the captain’s quarters. It’s a blur of pen and paper, dotted lines and scribbled coordinates. None of it is conclusive. None of it goes anywhere. It’s all pure conjecture, fabricated pieces to a puzzle whose big picture Hongjoong can only guess at. “Comm… Where’s my comm.”

Hongjoong paws at the pile of paper clumsily. More and more papers fly around until finally the glassy screen is unearthed from the mass. The captain squints at the screen as it animates, revealing the time to be early evening. He chuckles a bit to himself. Outside his window, there’s nothing but the vast, open expanse of space. Everything looks the same. It’s nothing but speck after speck of illuminated stardust, flickering and twinkling a vague, indiscernible distance away. He can’t imagine what kind of chaos they’d find themselves in if time systems weren’t defined. It must’ve been madness making, he thinks. He wonders if the early explorers implemented day and night cycles. They must have, right?

Hongjoong ponders the question as he hoists himself off his chair and out the door. He’s afraid that staying in his room will coax him back to sleep. While he considers himself an exceptional sleeper, he doesn’t want to rock the boat and fuck his cycle up  _ too  _ profoundly. 

They’d been in cruise for about two days now after plotting an economical course with a short warp to one of the Compass’s (apparently many) beacons. Anxiousness and excitement thrum beneath the captain’s skin. They got approximate information from the Coalition database on their destination. It’s a small planet toward the outer reaches of Coalition borders. A new settlement terraformed just decades prior. Like Amagee, the yet unnamed dwarf’s coordinates specify a position in space and on planet.

That has to mean there’s another piece. Hongjoong is sure of it.

Just thinking about slotting another piece into the puzzle - about perhaps illuminating another part of the glitched map - exhilirates him. It gives him goosebumps and makes his heart race. With every fragment they put together, that’s one tiny step closer to the ultimate goal.

Treasure.

_ What is your Treasure? _

God, does Hongjoong want to find out.

He dreams of it. Feverish, hazy mirages that feel so very far away yet graze his fingertips. The fleeting visions never remain. The second Hongjoong’s eyes open, bringing him back to the real world, his dreams vanish. They slip through his fingers like grains of sand, flying away into the wind. Sometimes, he feels as if he knows what the Treasure is, like it’s something not undiscovered but something forgotten. However, no amount of prompting, study, meditation or contemplation gleans any clarity in regards to the engimatic thing.

_ What is your Treasure? _

_ 'My Treasure is my quest' _ \- Hongjoong thinks. At least for now. At least until he discovers what the enigmatic thing really is. The stories always change depending on the culture that tells it. Usually it’s some mass of wealth - a cavern with massive dunes of gold and gems. In the Venusian telling, the Treasure grants ultimate wisdom, omniscience. San recounts his own story of the Captain Dex, one in which the ultimate Treasure is a Herculean weapon capable of wreaking calamitous destruction at the whims of that who wields it. Some tellings describe the Treasure as something else completely, though. Instead of being an object someone can possess, it’s portrayed as an entity, a being that judges and grants gifts only to those who are worthy.

Hongjoong always goes back and forth. Some days, he thinks it’s nothing more than a hiding spot for unimaginable wealth. Other times, he swears it has to be some destructive tool of war or something. Regardless of his thoughts - and the myriad of possibilities - one thing is for certain.

Captain Maddox went to great lengths to hide its true nature.

“Captain,” Jongho’s voice pierces Joong’s wandering thoughts.

The captain, grateful for the distraction, flashes their youngest a smile, “What’s up, Jongho?” 

The other has a few notes of his own. They’re not related to the Compass, though. Jongho volunteered to study up on their next destination for the crew. Hongjoong appreciated it, even though he’s pretty sure the kid volunteered moreso out of boredom than anything else. There’s not a ton to do on the ship, in truth. There’s maintenance tasks and informational databases. The planetary catalogue is by far the most interesting. Save for that it’s all Coalition literature. A lot of instruction manuals and emergency procedures. The first aid handbook is extensive and a surprisingly interesting read. Hongjoong personally likes turning to the “Deescalation Guide” the most. He’s fairly certain it’s not supposed to be read as a comedy, but he can’t help laughing every time he opens it up. Reading what Coalition officers are “recommended” to do versus knowing how they  _ actually  _ act is hilarious in a sort of grim, bitter way.

“Hmm… Not much on this place,” He nods to the projected screen floating above the kitchen table. “It’s brand spanking new. Maybe thirty years settled, if that.”

“Damn,” Joong breathes out, taking a seat across from the other. He watches the scrolling slides of pictures. There’s only three of them. They all appear vague and generic, probably having been taken prior to settlers even arriving. “Finally, somewhere low key.”

“Yeah,” Jongho shrugs. “Should be easy.”

The captain raises his brows incredulously at that. Nothing has been simple for them. Ever. Not once since embarking has anything been straightforward. Half the time they’ve been fighting for their lives and technically speaking they have not left one place of their own volition. They’ve either had to escape for safety or gotten chased away by law enforcement. (Or both.)

“Okay- Look, the sector is like a desert. This place is, like, a baby settlement which means they shouldn’t actually have Coalition presence. It’ll just be periodic patrols,” Jongho elaborates sheepishly.

“Hm,” Hongjoong nods, impressed. Looks like he did his homework. Or maybe he just knows things about how new colonies work and stuff. After twelve years of education, Jongho ought to know a little something about that. Hongjoong imagines it’s enforced in the curriculum - not that he’d know. He dropped out after middle school.

“Captain, there’s something else I wanted to talk about, though,” Jongho says, his voice lower.

Joong’s eyebrows furrow, and he leans in, “What’s up?” It’s not like the other to be secretive. Jongho doesn’t really talk about his feelings. Or much of anything, really. He’s always so phlegmatic and cool. It’s easy to forget that he’d just recently graduated school.

Jongho glances around, as if checking to assure the two are alone. Beyond the kitchen and down the stairs, Wooyoung and San sit snoozing on the couch. Mingi and Yunho are, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be seen. Mingi’s a nap enthusiast, and Yunho is never too far from the Venusian boy. The captain figures the two are together somewhere.

“I think we should, like… Well, I dunno. Our crew is sort of bigger now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s seven of us, huh?”

Jongho nods, “Yeah. And I mean, well, even though we do have our own spaces, we also share lots of spaces and, y’know, cross paths.”

“Uh-huh?”

“I just think that maybe we should-” Jongho runs a hand through his hair, and his face pinkens sheepishly. “I dunno maybe we should all get together and...”

“We should make time to discuss matters as a group, shouldn’t we?” Hongjoong finishes the other’s thought. Truthfully, the same thing had been on his mind, too. As much as he loathes to admit it, a certain someone’s words have been rattling around in his head for days. No matter how hard he tries, guilt perpetually gnaws at the bottom of his heart. He wants there to be an opportunity for people to directly speak their mind. Maybe everything won’t be solved that way, but it’s a start. Plus, Jongho has a point. Seven people sharing space for extended periods of time is going to bring about issues, no matter how friendly and well intentioned everyone is.

“Yeah,” Jongho chuckles sheepishly. “I dunno, feels kind of dumb to just propose we meet like we’re in some sort of corporation.”

“Eh. There’s seven of us cooped up in here. Sooner or later we’re all gonna drive each other crazy,” Joong shrugs. “Though, I gotta wonder… If you’re coming to me with this now, does that mean that something happen-”

“It’s Mingi and Yunho,” Jongho clenches his fists and slams them on the table. “I mean- I support them and stuff. I’m really happy for them, but they’re  _ disgusting _ .”

Hongjoong suppresses a snort. Jongho’s expression is serious; brooding and angry. The youngest’s lips are pressed thin into a line of pique and his fists are clutched tight, knuckles straining almost white.

“Uh, yeah, I guess they are pretty affectionate,” Hongjoong tries not to laugh. 

“You don’t understand. I’ve seen things,” Jongho leans in further, voice quieting even more. “I’ve  _ heard  _ things.”

“Uh-”

“I get that your bedroom is on the opposite wing of the floor, and that you have your own bathroom. But, like, you know our showers are communal right?”

“Oh… Oh god-”

“Right?!” Jongho leans forward, his eyes wide and manic. The gaze of a man who’s seen (and apparently heard) entirely too much. “Captain, please. I don’t know how, but it’s already happened so many times. I just want water or need to take a leak then suddenly I walk in on them-”

“Got it!” Hongjoong interjects before getting the gory details. “I’ve- I’ve got it.” He coughs out. “We can definitely, uh, make sure we have group talks and remind people to set boundaries.”

“Thank you,” Jongho heaves a relieved sigh and slumps back into his chair. He pouts his lips, and his gaze wanders over to the two snoozing away on the couch. Hongjoong is glad that Wooyoung and San are getting along. It’s almost jarring how their conversation seemed to flip a switch. Immediately, their relationship got better. It got to a place Joong thought it ought to be (well, almost - not that it’s  _ really  _ any of his business). Whatever walls Wooyoung had built off were promptly torn down, and the two have been menaces ever since. 

“Shit, though,” Jongho breathes out. “At the rate we’re going, everyone’s gonna pair off like the old ark.”

Joong snorts, “Wh- Hey, yeah-  _ no _ . That is  _ not  _ gonna happen. No offense to you or Yeo.”

“None taken,” Jongho chuckles.

“Oh- Speaking of Yeo, I think we’re pretty close to our destination. I’m gonna grab him. Unless you had any other, uh, concerns.”

“Nah. Mingi and Yunho are gross, that’s it,” Jongho shrugs nonchalantly.

“Noted,” Joong chuckles before leaving the other to his devices. Jongho goes back to scrolling the screen above the table idly. The poor guy looks bored, and Hongjoong makes a mental note to maybe buy some books or something. He’s afraid if they all get bored then they’ll really start driving one another up the wall.

Hongjoong steps past the two on the couch quietly toward the stairs leading down to the lower level. He finds himself smiling at the familiar sight of Yeosang tinkering away in his corner. The other is mumbling something to himself, prodding his mechanical arm with a tiny tool. His utterances echo softly across the otherwise empty loading bay. Joong stands on his tiptoes, trying to get a peek over the other’s shoulders as he approaches.

“Yeosang?” Hongjoong calls from behind the other.   
  


“Wh-?!” Yeosang yelps, swinging around abruptly.

Joong just barely catches the glint of a blade in the light and lurches back right on time. His breath catches in his throat, and his eyes blow open wide, fixed on the knife at his throat.

“Wh- Wh- What the fuck, captain?!” Yeosang squeaks, stumbling back and bumping into his workstation. He coughs, his ears tinting red. “You- You can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

Hongjoong takes a few seconds to calm himself down and assess the situation. He realizes that Yeosang hadn’t been purposefully brandishing a knife at his throat. Well, not exactly. From the cyborg’s left wrist protrudes a blade. It appears to be built in, and tiny seams and junctures give Joong the impression it’s retractable. Or, at least, it’s supposed to be.

“Have you always had that?” Hongjoong asks, eyes fixed on the blade.

“Huh-? Oh, this?” Yeosang’s pupils flit over to the blade. “It’s, um, a work in progress.”

“Oh,” Joong nods. He’s still coming down from the brief spell of fear that’d seized him. In truth, while he’d been afraid for himself initially, now his anxiety is transitioning more toward concern for the other. Why the fuck is Yeosang building himself a wrist knife?

The cyborg has been worrying Hongjoong for days, actually. He’s been off as of late. Jumpy and distant. Hongjoong thought at first it was just his nature. Yeosang has a tendency to throw himself into his work, even if the long hours are to his detriment. He often forgets to eat and Hongjoong honestly doesn’t know when the cyborg finds time to sleep. He wonders: is this the result of Yeo’s unhealthy habits catching up with him? Or is there something more at play?

Hongjoong grimaces as he recalls PO Prettyboy’s words.

_ “If you’re as fucking kind and caring as they say, then prove it.” _

“Yeosang, what’s really going on?” Hongjoong presses gently.

“Nothing is wrong,” Yeosang replies. His tone is cool, but Hongjoong swears he picks up a hint of defensiveness. Maybe it’s just imagined, though. Yeosang isn’t exactly easy to read.

“Yeo, I’m serious,” Hongjoong responds more softly. He steps back to give the other some space. “It’s been like this for a couple of days now… Ever since we got off Amagee, actually. Did something happen-?”

“ _ Nothing _ happened,” Yeosang insists with a chuckle. “I just-” His pupils flee Hongjoong’s discerning gaze to focus intently on his wrist blade. Yeo carefully presses a finger to the tip and pushes it back into its hidden hilt bit by bit. “I’ve come to realize that our lifestyle can be a little bit dangerous is all. I want to make sure that I’m prepared.”

Hongjoong frowns. The other  _ does  _ have a point. Having a card up his sleeve could potentially have helped them out in numerous situations. A hidden dagger is something that Wooyoung or San might employ to have an extra layer of security. But Yeosang? That’s not like him. He’s more calculating than that. He’s not the type to pull out a weapon and start slashing at people. At least, Hongjoong didn’t think he was. Guilt and insecurity sting in his chest upon the realization that, maybe, he doesn’t know the cyborg as well as he thinks he does.

Joong doesn’t know what to say. Yeosang provided a pretty infallible case. Hongjoong considers that maybe he’s overthinking things. He doesn’t know what else to do. Forcing Yeosang to open up with threats or harsh words will probably do nothing but make the other recede further into his shell. That’s not what Hongjoong wants, anyway. Hell, it could be nothing. Joong doesn’t know. 

“May I recommend something a little more… Safe than that, then?” Hongjoong posits.

“I- I told you it’s a work in progress,” Yeosang responds, his face flushing even more.

“What if you stab yourself in the face while brushing your teeth or something?! That thing is scary. What about maybe a laser shooter or stun bolts?”

“Oh, really?” Yeo huffs bemusedly. “A gun in my arm? What do you think I am, a comic book character? What kind of a jackass would want a gun in their arm? Integrating ballistics or even photon power into my own body would be a wildly impractical, logicistical nightmare. There’s an entirely independent power source to be considered, physics involved - kickback is a mother fucker - then the matter of ammunition, toggling typical form with barrel functionality, not to mention the implication of that much heat in proximity to my flesh-”

“You’ve tried it before, haven’t you?” Hongjoong smirks.

“Of  _ course  _ I’ve tried it before! Who  _ doesn’t _ want a gun in their arm!?” Yeosang throws his hands up. The sudden motion prompts his wrist blade to eject, and the two flinch as a result. Their wide-eyed gazes move from the blade to one another, and what had been an attempt at a real conversation devolves into a fit of laughter. 

“Wh-Why’d you come down here, anyway?” Yeosang asks after retracting his blade a second time. It’s nice to see him smiling. Joong realizes he hasn’t seen much of that recently.

“Oh, well, nav says we’re five-mill clicks from the destination. I kinda wanted your input on how we should approach things,” The captain replies, leaning against the workbench.

“Hmm…” Yeo considers the question, lips pressed together in thought momentarily. “That’ll put us there middle of the night, just about. What kinda place is it again? Which one did we choose?”

“The one in the boonies,” Joong reminds him. “Middle of nowhere. Jongho says it’s a new colony. They should only get patrols every so often, so we can lay low.”

“Can we?” Yeosang asks cheekily.

“We better,” Hongjoong says. “New colony means shit will be cheap, too. Maybe we can pawn off some meds or something, get some fresh food. Maybe some more clothes.”

“What, you don’t like my turtleneck?” Yeosang chuckles, nodding to the emerald green sweater Hongjoong had swiped from the other earlier that day.

“I mean, it’s less for my sake and more for Mingi and Yunho’s, really. Everything’s so  _ little  _ on them.”

“Maybe everything’s just big on you,” Yeosang quips.

Hongjoong narrows his eyes menacingly, “You’re lucky you’re my favorite.” He jokes.

“I am?” Yeo pretends to be thrilled, batting his eyelashes and gasping.

“Yeah, just don’t tell Yunho. He’ll be heartbroken.”

The cyborg snorts, “Oh- I don’t know about that. Seems like he’s pretty occupied right now.”

“Oh no, have you been terrorized by them, too?”

“Not to the extent of Jongho, apparently,” Yeosang laughs.

“Ugh. I love Yunho but he’s not exactly discreet.”

“And Mingi…” The cyborg makes a pained expression.

“Yeah, yeah. I told Jongho we’d do something about it. I was thinking about having us meet routinely, anyway. The ship is big and small at the same time. We should have, like, an open forum every so often. Let everyone air their concerns. Go over our agenda for the next week or stop. Iron out collective budget decisions - that sort of thing.”

“Wow, that’s very… Formal of you,” Yeosang says, blinking surprisedly. 

“Wh- Formal?” Heat pricks the captain’s face. He doesn’t know why, but the other’s comment embarrasses him a bit. “I- I’m not trying to run this ship like some gung-ho military captain or anything…”

“Yeah- I mean, I know,” Yeosang elaborates. “But I dunno it’s very… Captainy.”

“Captainy?” Hongjoong frowns slightly. “Wh-What, was I not captainy before?” He poses the question as sort of a joke, but he’s not completely joking. 

“Well, I mean, you’ve always commanded a sort of respect, and it’s no secret you care, but…” Yeosang chooses his words thoughtfully. “You always seemed captainesque in a sort of roguish, inspirational way. Now it seems like you’re putting thought into it, too. Like you really want to run this ship, not just hunt for Treasure.”

“W-Well I’ve always wanted to- run this ship, I mean,” Hongjoong responds. “I just- I’m learning as I go. And I’m sorry if I’ve failed you in any way because of it.”

“Wh- Hey, I- I didn’t expect an apology or anything like that,” Yeosang shakes his head. “Captain, you haven’t  _ failed  _ anyone.”

_ 'Then why do I feel like I have?' _ \- the words push to the forefront of his mind, very nearly toppling off of his tongue. They don’t, though. He reigns them in.

“Yeah, well, I want to make sure that I never do. Period. And part of that is making sure we make this thing we’ve got going on is sustainable.”

“Captain, if you need any help, you know I’m here.”

“Yeosang, you do more than enough,” Hongjoong reaches out to pat the other on the shoulder, but the cyborg recoils. His body locks up, tense with unnervation. Joong takes pause, confused. He searches the other’s gaze for indication as to why he’d done that, but the other’s blue-green orbs have made their way to the floor. Guilt grips Joong’s heart tightly and drags it down, mixing it with the contents of his stomach.

“Yeosang, did I-” “I’m sorry captain, I-” The two talk over one another. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” “It’s nothing, I just-”

Hongjoong snaps his mouth shut, waiting for the other to say his piece.

“I’m really tired, actually,” Yeosang mutters. Though his eyes leave the floor, his gaze isn’t steady. It’s jittery, bouncing around between genuine eye contact and darting to random spots in the loading bay. “I’m gonna get some rest before we land.”

“O-Okay,” Hongjoong says softly. He’s not given time to even utter another syllable before the other is striding off toward the stairs.

The captain heaves a heavy sigh when the door shuts behind Yeosang. Joong slumps against the cyborg’s workstation and wrings his hands down his face. 

Yeosang will talk when he wants to talk.  _ If  _ he wants to talk.  _ If  _ there’s even something to talk about. Hongjoong repeats this mantra as he plods up the stairs and back to the kitchen.

Preparation for their landing provides a decent distraction. They can only do so much reconnaisance and planning from above, but Hongjoong plans it to the letter regardless. Anxiety and excitement swirl in his stomach as the hours tick on, and he can barely keep his eyes shut when he retires later at night.

Another piece.

But what will that mean?

Soon, he’ll find out.

* * *

Brown, brown, brown.

The newborn transplant has been assigned the moniker Earth FM0198, and it’s about five-hundred times shittier than the pictures suggested. They’d arrived near the outskirts of the new settlement in the wee hours of the simulated morning. Unlike more developed planets, the budding settlement still hadn’t quite earned its star. The bluish halo around it glows with the artificial light of a simulated atmosphere.

ATEEZ approaches at a steady pace, all seven in the bridge, eager to observe their newest landing spot. Hongjoong stands at the center of the pilot’s console, Wooyoung in one chair while Mingi sits in Yunho’s lap in the other. Yeosang and Jongho stand off to either side while San peeks over Wooyoung’s shoulder. San and Mingi watch more eagerly, while the more experienced travelers regard the floating rock with boredom.

Brown.

Earth FM0198 is overwhelmingly brown. There are a few splotches of ocean, and as they begin breaching the atmosphere, swaths of brushy greenery appear here and there. However, the entire planet is mostly covered in brown.

Joong eyes their position on the nav projected onto the bridge’s viewing window. Yunho lowers them smoothly beneath the atmospheric field until a vivid, blue sky appears above. The saturation of the artificial tone is damn near blinding, entirely too much. Bright light shines from behind their position, casting a long shadow in front of the combat freighter’s gleaming hull.

“Looks like we’ll be arriving with the sunrise,” Hongjoong says, eyeing their location relative to the sun and their destination.

Yunho takes them lower, and they cruise comfortably above the surface of a vast continent. Save for the coast in the distance, the vast majority of the landscape appears arid and even craggy. Trees appear small and shrubby, spindly limbs tangled, covered with browned foliage. Occasionally, they pass over a sad looking stream surrounded by muddy banks.

The closer the get, the lower they get - and the more Hongjoong can see. Tiny shrubs and grasses jut out from the rocky, dry land beneath.

“How close are we?” Hongjoong asks his pilot. 

“Not five hundred clicks from the beacon, captain,” Yunho answers, eyes fixed out the window. 

“This is a colony, isn’t it?” Yeosang asks, narrowing his eyes. “Like, there are people. Right?”

“That’s what the database said,” Jongho answers him.

“Well, where are they?” Yeo asks. “I don’t see any signs of civilization at all.”

Joong supresses a snort at that. It just then occurs to him that Yeosang had never been on a real backwater planet. Junking brought Yunho and Hongjoong to a few places like this in the past. To a native of the overcrowded BH guts, this place must be a ghost town in comparison.

“It’s a new colony,” Jongho replies with a shrug. “Anyway, there are signs of life. Look down there.” The youngest points out the window at something. At first Hongjoong doesn’t notice a damn thing. Just dirt, dirt and, oh, more dirt. It reminds him of the junk planets he’s scavenged in the past. However, upon closer inspection, the does notice that some of the dirt looks different.

“Is that a road?” Hongjoong asks.

“I’m pretty sure that’s just the ground,” Yeosang mutters.

“I think it is, actually,” Wooyoung replies, leaning over his console to get a better look. The first mate’s eyes trace the winding road in the dust until they find something in the distance. “Looks like it leads somewhere, too.”

“Wh-” “Are you serious?” “Lemme see!” The ones who’d been hanging back clamor to get a look.

Hongjoong leans forward, squinting to discern the shapes in the dim dawnlight. Initially, all he can find is dirt, trees, shrubs and cacti. Then, little forms begin pronouncing themselves against the horizon. Relatively solid, structured shapes jut out against the landscape of jagged crags and amorphous dust.

“That a town?” The captain quirks an eyebrow with interest.

“Looks like it’s damn close to our beacon, too,” Yunho notes. He starts lowering them and slowing down the ship. “Should we try landing there, captain?”

“I don’t see why not,” Hongjoong replies. “I doubt they’ll have some impressive police force waiting to take us down. And the closest real Coalition hub has got to be a long ass jump away. We’re geologists out on a dig is all. We don’t want any trouble.”

“That’s right,” Wooyoung clicks his tongue and grins. The group had concocted the little farce the night prior just in case. They’re geologists collecting and comparing rock samples from various settlements on behalf of the Academia Hathor. Woo even made up fake documents with the guidance of Mingi. It’s thin - and downright illogical if one actually thinks about it. How could a brand new settlement have ancient artifacts? Sure, some planet cores are formed with recycled materials or nearby asteroids, but the story is still thin. Anyone with too much time on their hands could probably poke a dozen holes in it.

Even so, Joong figures if they can get off of Amagee without a scratch, a baby colony won’t be able to do shit about their presence. Odds are it’d take at least twenty-four to fourty-eight hours for authorities to arrive if they’re alerted. And Hongjoong sure as hell doesn’t plan on staying that long.

“See, Yeosang,” Hongjoong says with a smirk, turning to the cyborg. He makes a grand gesture to the fast approaching cluster of buildings in the distance. “ _ Civilization _ .” Yeosang laughs and shakes his head. 

A quiet hum of anticipation fills the bridge, but nobody dares make a word. Nervous, the collective remains hum, as if speaking could tip the scales of their turbulent luck out of their favor.

ATEEZ slows to a courteous crawl, lowering to a modest hover as they reach the outer reaches of the town. At first, there’s nothing but farms. Expanses of sad, barren fields and grazing land sectioned off with decrepit wooden fences. The houses are, shockingly, constructed primarily of wood. Their design is of the simplistic kind Hongjoong always saw in story books chronicling fairy tales of the ancient ages. 

_ Cottage. _

  
That’s the word, he thinks. Is this what a cottage looks like? The collection of cottages become more dense as they venture inward. The builds are taller - though not significantly so. He’s fairly certain none of them exceed three stories.

“I… Guess there’s no docking lot here, huh,” Yunho mentions.

“Seems like it’s sort of a ‘land where you want’ gig,” Wooyoung responds with a shrug.

“Why don’t we find a clearing or something close to the town center?” Joong proposes. Yunho obliges, lifting up again and taking ATEEZ above the cluster of homes. From the sky, it’s very apparent that there isn’t exactly a town “center”. It’s more a strip of closely packed buildings on either side of a wide dirt road. In the distance, Joong can see the density of the buildings recede yet again, giving way to more rocks and cliffs. It really is a tiny town. It appears that, save for the farms on the outer edge, everything is built off of the main thoroughfare. Miniscule side streets that look more like alleyways branch off from the thoroughfare, leading to a few small structures that Joong assumes to be residential housing. The linear town runs parallel to a short mountain range that stretches beyond the horizon just west of town.

“There,” Hongjoong points to the left. He notices a small clearing just southwest of the main strip, between a farm and a couple of residences.

“Got it,” Yunho obliges the captain’s order. He gently lowers ATEEZ yet again, settling the ship smoothly into place between two clusters of spindly trees with wide canopies. Though ATEEZ’s land is fairly soft, a massive cloud of dust kicks up as the landing gear finally hits the ground.

Hongjoong takes a deep breath.

Another landing.

Another new planet, new place, new people and new set of challenges, certainly.

While daunting, staying on the ship isn’t going to get ATEEZ’s crew any closer to their goal.

“Well, off we go,” Hongjoong says, taking initiative to be the first out of the bridge and down the stairs. The crew eagerly follows him, a cloud of anxious chatter and jitters. 

What’s in store for them?

Hongjoong can only guess as to what could possibly be as he prompts the loading ramp to lower on the PC. When the ramp hits the ground, another little puff of dust kicks up. The crew walks through it fearlessly (though a few cough loudly and hide their faces in their clothing).

Hongjoong glances around, getting their first genuine, on the ground impression of the strange, new Earth FM0198. The captain squints, waving dust out of his face as he leads them toward the buildings just meters in front of them.

“What the fuck is this place?” Yeosang mutters, head whipping around and eyes wide with a combination of shock and curiosity. 

San croaks, “I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere so- so dusty in my-” He coughs so roughly that his eyes well up with tears. The siren pulls up his folded over turtleneck, assuring that his gills are perfectly covered.

Hongjoong grabs his comm out of his pocket and taps onto the map screen. Yeo programmed in their newest coordinates, and much like before, they’d landed within reasonable walking distance of the destination. If Joong had to guess, their coordinates will lead them just a little beyond town.

The group passes between a few buildings that look like shops and emerge onto the main thoroughfare. Sunlight just barely begins trickling from above the horizon, painting the entire place in soft light. Everything is quiet. Eerily so. Yet the place feels undeniably alive. Are all of the people still asleep? Joong always knew these agricultural settlements to rise fairly early. 

  
Yet there isn’t a single soul in sight. 

“Is this the civilization you so enthusiastically told me about?” Yeosang snarks.

“Something isn’t right,” Yunho’s words pierce the strange silence enveloping the empty avenue.

“Where is everyone?” San asks timidly.

The captain leads his crew onto the street, head whipping around in wonder. The place is impossibly mum, almost hauntingly so. Even their footsteps on the dirt road sound loud in comparison to the oppressive silence surrounding them. There are no birds singing or even mice skittering about. It’s just them.

But that can’t be right.

A figure flashes in Hongjoong’s eyes - a faltering vision in his peripherals. He turns on his heel and just scarcely catches sight of someone looking at them from a nearby window. A child stares, wide-eyed and silent. Just as quickly as the tiny face had appeared in the pane of glass, it vanishes. Hongjoong blinks confusedly.

“Yunho, what do you hear?” Hongjoong asks, his voice low. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. They’re being watched. He knows it.

The canis presses his lips together and knits his brows in thought for a moment. He focuses in taking in all of the sounds around him. There aren’t many. There’s them - their breathing, their feet shuffling across the dusty street, nervous swallowing and little gasps. The barely-there breeze jostles trees in the distance and whistles between the wooden buildings.

“I hear wood creaking,” Yunho stills. Everyone halts with him, too. “It’s not just the wind, though. I hear… Footsteps, I think. They’re quiet, though. They’re…” He tilts his head confusedly. “Are they hiding?”

“That’ll be enough from you lot,” A thick, accented voice rings out clear as a bell from behind them. It’s deep and masculine, old sounding as well. A slight rasp in his tone implies that he’s got a smoking habit, too. “Now put your hands in the air where I can see ‘em.” The gruff man orders.

“What authority do you have?” Hongjoong asks, trying to steady his voice in spite of his nerves.

“I’m the sheriff of this town, and if that’s not enough, I also have a twelve gauge slug pointed at your back.”

Hongjoong doesn’t quite understand the man’s jargon, but it sounds like a weapon. Joong swallows nervously and obliges the man.

“Do what he tells you,” He instructs his crew. The captain turns slowly with his hands up. When he’s done his full one-eighty, he can finally match a face to the surly voice that’d stopped them. The man is an older gentleman. His skin is tanned and wrinkled, worn from years UV exposure from the looks of it. He’s husky but not necessarily heavy set. Just big. He’s got a pretty utilitarian getup - a boxy jacket on top of loose, rough looking slacks and boots definitely worn for function and not style. It doesn’t really look like a uniform at all, really. If not for the faded Coalition star on the breast pocket of his canvas jacket, Joong wouldn’t believe the man to be any authority at all.

“State your business,” The sheriff demands gruffly.

“Do visitors normally have to declare official business?” Joong responds frankly.

“We don’t get visitors ‘round these parts,” The man responds. “What we do gets is bandits. And thieves. Don’t think I’ll believe for a second that a bunch of snazzy types like yourselves just felt like droppin’ by. So, once again, I’m gonna give you one more chance: state your business.”

Hongjoong heaves a sigh. Nerves toil in his gut, tossing his stomach up into his throat. The captain remains steadfast in the chararade as he answers.

“Alright, you got me. We’re not here for vacation. The truth is… We’re geologists.”

“Geologists?!” The sheriff guffaws. “Ain’t no diamonds here, gentleman.”

“We’re collecting samples of rocks from various planets across the galaxy for a study,” Hongjoong says. “We’ve got the paperwork and everything. Our university - Academia Hathor - is sponsoring us.”

“Oh, really?” The man asks, narrowing his eyes doubtfully. “And what exactly you come here to study?”

“We’re comparing the fortification, stability and drainage properties of different samples to see which compositions are ideal for the formation of new planets. Also, we want to use the results in order to support another studying experimenting with the insertion of foreign material into already existent cores in order to aid in the security of less-”

“Alright-”

“-stable cores and prevent natural disasteres related to the instability-”

“Alright- I said enough!” The sheriff holds up a hand, and Hongjoong shuts his mouth. He pinches the bridge of his nose for a second before speaking again. “Any of you armed?”

“Nope,” Hongjoong answers for the groups. The others shake their head fervently, content to let their slick captain do the talking. “You can check, too. I promise none of us are armed. Not even a knife.”

“Don’t move,” The sheriff brusquely commands. The crew obliges, a couple even holding their breath so as to not jostle too much. The older gentlemen mutters something about checking. He gives a couple members of the crew a half-assed pat down with his free hand while the other remains secured around the rifle. Apparently satisfied by the quick evaluation, he steps back again.

“You can put your hands down,” He tells them.

Everyone does just that, letting out a collective sigh of relief.

“I believe you,” The sheriff finally says. He looks beside himself and makes a waving motion. Initially Hongjoong doesn’t get it, but as doors and windows begin to open around them, he realizes: it’s a signal. Suddenly, the ghost town begins to animate. Shops open their doors and people walk out onto the street. Low chatter begins to hum across the place. “Closed” signs are flipped over and merchants begin bringing out merchandise to display.

In just minutes, the place transforms completely. It transitions from eerie and quiet to a busy thoroughfare bustling with activity.

“Sorry about all that,” The sheriff says, drawing Joong’s attention away from the town coming to life around him. “Been having trouble with bandits as of late. Can never be too careful. Like I said, people don’t visit these parts. Needless to say, your ship coming along got our attention.”

“O-Oh, sorry,” Hongjoong says sheepishly. “I had no idea. We just, um, used our geological detectors and found some materials we’d like to get samples of. Didn’t think we’d scare you guys. We should be the ones apologizing.”

“Not at all,” The sheriff waves dismissively. His hard shell of authority falls to the wayside. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you let me show you around?” The man regards the crew with a warm smile. It’s charming in a grandfatherly sort of way. Regardless, ATEEZ’s crew has more pressing matters.

“That- That won’t be necessary,” Hongjoong says. “We’re here on grant money, so we shouldn’t be staying too long.”

“Alright, alright. Well if you won’t let me show you the whole strip myself, lemme at least walk you to Bobbi’s place down the way,” He points behind himself.

“Um- Who’s?” Joong squeaks.

“Bobbi’s- Best breakfast in town. Old bat’s a master at making babycakes.”

“Babycakes?” Hongjoong’s face squashes with confusion.

(“Is that a cake made out of babies?” San mutters, horrified.)

“Wh- You don’t know what a babycake is? Shoot- C’mon this way. You’re probably starvin’ after all that travel,” He nods behind himself.   
  


“Oh, no, I really wouldn’t want to impose-”

“Breakfast is on me,” The sheriff says genially.

Breakfast?

On him?

Hongjoong exchanges questioning glances with his crew. San appears wide-eyed and scandalized at the idea of the enigmatic “babycake”. Yunho heard “breakfast” and has been checked out since. Wooyoung shrugs in concession and Yeosang nods. Jongho appears totally indifferent.

“Show us the way,” Hongjoong tells the man.

The sheriff happily waves them over, walking them down the thoroughfare. The crowd parts as ATEEZ walks down the road, and Joong can’t help but overhear the whispers and catch the sideways glances. He supposes he oughtn’t be very surprised. This place doesn’t get lots of visitors, after all. He tries not to be too bothered by the people talking, more curious about what the hell a “babycake is” than anything.

* * *

A babycake, so it turns out, is a puffy sort of pancake. It’s cooked in a heavy skillet and served with fruit and sugar. The crew devours their cakes eagerly (After explaining to San that humans do not eat their own kind no matter how direly inhospitable to crops their climates).

The town they’d ended up in calls itself Tass. It’s a mass of small wooden buildings “risen by our own hand” as many of the locals proudly tell them. The main strip is a collection of shops, businesses, and other agencies. What they have is basic but covers basic needs. There’s a tailor across from Bobbi’s, one of three restaurants along the strip. There are a couple of saloons, a doctor’s office, a bank, a feed and supply shop and, of course, a few specialized grocers. There’s one of everything, and all the people know one another, it seems. Tass is practically a storybook village with how provincial and idyllic it appears.

  
And, for the first time since their hellish escape from the KQ jail, ATEEZ’s crew finds themselves recieving a warm reception.

The people of Tass are genuinely friendly. Perhaps a bit on the meddling side, but above all else they’re curious. At least a dozen people interrupted their meal asking them where they’d come from, why they’d come to Tass, what they think of it, and how long they’re gonna stay. A child no older than four informed Yunho that he had a tail, to which the canis responded with a “Thanks, I was wondering what kept tickling my back!”. Their server twirled her hair and rambled about how one day she wants to see the stars, too. (She also “accidentally” gave Wooyoung a babycake with a noticeable heap of extra fruit.) 

Nobody is out to kill them, maim them, or scam them.

Yes, heads are turning, but probably because the sight of visitors like themselves is rare.

Hongjoong tries to drop hints about the story of the Compass, offhandedly mentioning it to one of the townspeople who’d come by to ask about their travels. A few people have heard the story of the Captain and his Compass, but they all regard it as legend. As they’re leaving Bobbi’s, one of the locals tells them that “the mayor might know a little bit more about the land”. Joong wonders if the man might know anything about buried artifacts.

“-you won’t be able to miss it,” The woman who’d tipped Joong off about the mayor says.

“Thanks, much,” Hongjoong replies with a grateful smile. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome. Tell Mayor Jonessen that Brie from Bobbi’s sent you,” The woman says with a grin.

“I will, Ms. Brie, thank you,” Joong waves politely before leaving through the creaky door of Bobbi’s. When the crew steps out, the faux sun’s no longer creeping up from the horizon. It beams down relentlessly. Though it’s just barely begun its ascent, it already feels entirely too hot for such an early hour in the morning. Sweat begins beading at the captain’s nape as he strolls out onto the street.

Glancing over his shoulder, he does a quick head count. One, two, three, four…

“Where’s Woo?” Hongjoong asks, pursing his lips.

“Uh-” “Oh, I didn’t notice he was-” “Um…” A few heads turn to check. Joong’s gaze shifts ever so briefly to the siren. San frowns but doesn’t make any sort of snide comment. Good. 

As if summoned, Wooyoung finally emerges from the restaurant, a dumb grin on his face.

“D’you have to tie your boots?” Hongjoong asks sarcastically.

“Don’t give me that look,” Wooyoung smirks. He slings an arm around San’s shoulder and walks forward with the other. “I was gathering intel.”

“Oh?” Hongjoong’s brows raise curiously. He wasn’t aware they needed intel. The captain nods in the direction of the mayor’s place. His house is apparently northeast of town “twenty minutes by foot” according to Ms. Brie. Hongjoong finds it quaint that they describe distance with time, but he didn’t want to tell the woman to her face since it seemed patronizing. It makes sense to track things by distance on foot given that the only “vehicles” Joong has actually spotted is horses. “Let’s walk and talk.” 

ATEEZ’s crew makes their way down the wide, dusty road as people go about their days. More than a few sets of eyes unsubtly turn their way.

“Notice how nice everyone is?” Wooyoung leans close to Hongjoong and murmurs as they walk along in a tight knit clique. Yunho’s on one side of the captain while Woo and San are on the other. Jongho, Mingi and Yeo trail close behind. 

“Yeah. They definitely display that small town hospitality,” The captain observes.

“Well, they’ve also got an agenda,” Woo replies.

“Don’t tell me they want us to stay,” Joong snickers. The point of a colony is to grow, after all.

“Not quite,” Wooyoung says. “Turns out Earth FM0198 is due for its decade evaluation.”

“Oh shit. So, what, do they think we’re secret shoppers or something?” Joong asks.

Woo shrugs, “I mean, it’s pretty sus, isn’t it? A bunch of ‘geologists’ just  _ happen  _ to swing by in a ship model that’s techinically only for Coalition? Right as their evaluation is around the corner? All I know is that Tass is trying to be on their best behavior right now.”

“U-Um, excuse me,” San pipes up from next to the first mate. “What do you mean ‘best behavior’? I’m confused.”

“Yeah, uh, what’re you talking about?” Yunho adds, cheeks tinting slightly from embarrassment.

“Well, they gotta be good for their evaluation,” Wooyoung answers. He’s met with two very lost looks.

Hongjoong decides to pick up the slack and explain, “Okay, let’s back up here. I know neither of you really have the basic knowhow of Coalition stuff, but, basically, it goes like this: Coalition colonies start with a terraformed planet. Right?”

The siren and humecanis nod affirmatively.

Joong continues, “Once a planet is deemed suitable for human settlers, they start opening it up to potential colonizers. The Coalition will put up the new planet along with settlement sites and info about the place. They really sell that shit to get suckers to develop planets for them, y’know. Make it out to be all idyllic or to be a thing of pride.” The captain shrugs. “Usually they draw in older folks or hippies disenchanted with modern living. Sometimes extremist groups buy out settlements so they can have a homogenous society.” Hongjoong grimaces at the thought. On one hand, he’s glad crazy people like that are confined to isolated planets. On the other, the idea that people would pay to live on a planet without conflicting ideologies is mildly disheartening to him.

“Anyway,” Hongjoong says, “The state of the planets and how many are allowed in the first batch of settlers varies. Sometimes it’s tens of thousands, sometimes it’s hundreds of thousands. It can even be less than that. I dunno how they figure that shit out, it’s all Coalition bureaucracy bullshit. Once the settlers are screened and admitted, they take some, like courses and are given a date to set off.

“The Coalition gives them some starter shit - basic tools for building infrastructure and agriculture. But that’s about it. They’re not granted all the luxuries of high technology right off the gate. Basically, the Coalition forces their settlers to rough it. Like I said, they spin it to be some glorious, noble undertaking. Emphasize ‘living off of the land’ and ‘doing what our ancestors did’ or some country ass shit. I’m pretty sure they’re just cheap and don’t feel like paying for infrastructure right out the gate.”

“Then how do they get advanced things?” San asks, tilting his head curiously. “Must they develop and invent it on their own?”

“Oh, god no,” Joong laughs. “I can’t imagine what it’d be like if every single planet had to build from the ground up. That’d be a nightmare for the Coalition. Everything would be all different and un-uniform,” He laughs. “No. What they do is their decade evaluation. Every ten years, a colony is evaluated by a Coalition agent, and if they pass they’re given a fatter line of credit and more tech. Thing is, whether they pass or not is totally up to the whims of the evaluator. In theory, they’re supposed to be ‘objective’ and have a list of certain criteria.” Hongjoong laughs wryly.

Wooyoung remarks, “Obviously, the Coalition doesn’t operate as they should, though. There’s  _ tons  _ of stories of briberies, and people even say that they reject colonies that don’t align with Coalition values. If you don’t fall in line with what the evaluator wants, you have to wait another ten years for your shot at better infrastructure and, of course, more money. Of course, evaluators got wise to them kissing ass, so they send people undercover to check on how the colonies are really doing. And  _ that  _ is why everyone is extra ass-kissy.”

“Hm.” “Oh.” The two respond with nods. 

“So,” Yunho asks, directing himself more toward the captain, “What’re we gonna tell this guy, anyway? That we’re geologists who just happen to be interested in the Compass?”

“Yeah, why not?” Joong shrugs. “If people have it in their heads we’re evaluators, they’ll believe what they want to.”

“This place is brand new, though,” Yunho says. “It really doesn’t make any sense that a piece of an ancient device ended up here.”

“Nothing about the Compass makes sense,” Hongjoong replies. “If it lead us here, it’s for good reason, and we’re gonna find out why.”

“Hopefully nobody tries to kill us this time,” Woo adds with a chuckle.

The captain grins, “Yeah, well, I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

The group of seven march onward, taking in the strange, new sights. Horses draw hovercarts down the dusty street. Junky looking robots carry out simple tasks - sweeping dust off of the wooden porches of storefronts and carrying crates into businesses. Hongjoong imagines everything has to be hard-programmed as opposed to being learned by AI itself. It’s always fascinating to him, how vastly different others live. Landing on a new transplant is like landing in a time capsule, going back centuries - maybe even a millenium. 

All the while, the people whisper and stare. To them, ATEEZ’s crew is the strange sight. Joong’s pretty sure if it wasn’t for the almost compulsory manners of the people, they’d be prodding more. People seem particularly fascinated by Yunho and Yeosang. Someone back at the restaurant caught sight of Yeo’s mechanical hand and outright stared. If the cyborg noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it. Even without the exotic appendages, their clothing and piercings sure as hell would set them apart. The only jewelry Hongjoong sees anyone wear are simplistic wedding rings.

The dress of Tass’s people is similar to that of the sheriff: utilitarian and plain. Women wear skirts with hems that graze the dirty ground, and all of the pants in sight are loose. All of the colors are desaturated. They sort of match the landscape - rough muslins, linens, cottons and canvases dyed brown, sage green, robin’s egg blue, slate gray and brown. Long hair is worn up, tied back into tight plaits. Otherwise, the style seems to be cropped short. Lots of people favor tucking their hair into a hat, and Joong can’t blame them. It’s hot as hell even though the day’s barely started. Sunlight distorts the view down the road, smearing distant houses and pedestrians into a blur.

Soon, they meld into the mirages, too, as town disappears at their back and they approach the outer edges of the strip. In the distance, Hongjoong finally sees it. Brilliant white in the distance, concealed just barely by raggedy trees. The mayor’s estate. The grand house juts out of the horizon like a row of perfectly white teeth above chapped lips.

* * *

“O-Oh, thank you,” Hongjoong mutters, graciously taking the teacup and saucer extended to him.

He hopes the maid doesn’t think it inappropriate of him to stare at everything. To say the mayor’s estate is different is an understatement, to say the least. Tass’s main strip is dry, dusty, utilitarian. It’s tones of wood and ashen grays speckled with the occasional, brave outcropping of brushy grass.

When ATEEZ reached the outside of the mayor’s estate, their jaws dropped with shock. His property is sectioned off by an iron gate, and beyond it is a brich drive surrounded by lush, green grass. Half a dozen columns hold up the white behemoth of a house, creating a wide portico that appears to wrap around the entire manor. Polished windows framed with black shutters shine, reflecting the trees lining the drive like a mirror. Hongjoong had never seen anything like it in his life. All he knew was that it undeniably spoke to wealth.

ATEEZ’s crew walked through the open gate and was met with kind courtesy at the door by a maid. She looked like something out of a period piece in the griege uniform. She even had a matching cap. The woman escorted them through a long hallway flooded with natural light and invited them to sit in a parlor filled with warm wooden furniture and entirely too many patterns. He sat down on an uncomfortable couch, and she returned with an ornate, flowery silver hovercart minutes later.

  
The kindly humefeli curtseys shallowly before grabbing another cup and handing it to Yunho. The canis, subtle as ever, stares with wide eyes and his lips stretched into a thin line. There’s an obvious awkwardness. Joong can practically feel the discomfort radiating off of him like a thick cloud of fog. He always gets antsy whenever he sees people like him in roles like this. His head goes places, wonders how they got there. Wonders if they’re there of their own will. Hell, with how damn new Earth FM0198 is, Joong can’t help wondering, too. He tries to toss out the creeping paranoia, though. It’s hardly his place to conjecture about a stranger’s life, and he doesn’t want to assume the worst.

“Everyone here is so nice,” Yeosang comments when the maid leaves. He very clearly does so more out of want to break the weird silence than care for actual conversation. “I’m starting to get suspicious.”

“They probably think we’re secretly Coalition,” Wooyoung says with a shrug.

“Perhaps they’re simply welcoming by nature,” San adds. 

“Nobody is  _ that  _ welcoming,” Yeosang responds skeptically. “And why do they keep asking us about our lives? It’s weird.”

“Maybe they’re curious,” Jongho chuckles. “Doesn’t seem like they even have access to an interstellar satnet out here. Hell, not sure they even have a planetary network.”

“My home never had contact with the outside world, but we’re far less hospitable even to other sirens,” San comments. “Well, especially to other sirens, really. The territories of control are frequently in flux…”

“They’re harmless,” Joong says. He lowers his voice, “Even if they could do harm, we’re gonna be gone before anything can happen. Shit, I doubt they even have proper weapons.”

“Yunho, how come her tail looks different than yours?” Mingi’s voice pipes up.

Yunho’s cheeks flush and he sighs, “Well, she’s a humefeli.”

“A hume-what?”

“She’s, like, a different hybrid.”

“There are others like you!?”

“Wh- Felis are totally different!” Yunho spits back, flustered.

“Oh-” Wooyoung butts into their conversation. “He’s totally right, you know. They’ve got barbed tongues.”

Mingi gasps,“Their tongues are what?”

Woo nods, “Yeah. Never let one go down on you. Unless you’re, like, into that.”

“Wh- Wooyoung!” Hongjoong scolds the first mate. “What if someone hears you?!”

“Where is who going?” San’s face scrunches with puzzlement.

“Nobody is going anywhere,” Joong says through gritted teeth.

“I’m just saying-” Yeo’s voice crops up from his chair beside Jongho’s, “-where I come from, people mind their own business.”

Jongho responds flatly, “Where you come from there are periodic cullings, scammers, thugs and pickpockets.”

“...Maybe so,” Yeosang answers, his ears tinting pink.

“-is it like a catfish?” San asks Wooyoung who, apparently, had been explaining cats to the siren. The two sit in chairs across from the ones where Yeo and Jongho sit.

“Well… They have whiskers, but, um, they’re completely different save for that,” Wooyoung mutters.

“No,” Yunho laughs wryly. “It’s not the same, though.”

“But if you all have tails, I don’t understand the distinction…”

“Barbed tongues!” Woo shouts across the room again.

“Guys, can we, like, cool it on the inappropriate conversation?” Hongjoong tries to calm everyone down. He feels like enough of a jackass as is. Out of nowhere, they showed up at the mayor’s beautiful estate in ill-fitting clothes asking for an impromptu appointment. They were graciously recieved when the estate was by no means obliged. Now, they’re making a scene inside the mayor’s nice ass parlor. Their voices are so loud, Hongjoong’s ears start to ring.

“Yunho, you don’t have a barbed tongue, do you?” “That’s what I’m trying to tell y-” “I just don’t like it when people are that nice. It bothers me.” “You don’t like nice people?” “I would like to meet a cat one day, I think.” “They’re pretty cute-” “No, I don’t like ‘nice’ people because they’re not really nice.” “Because we’re different, Mingi. That’s like me asking you why you don’t have gills.” “Yeo, that sounds kinda sad.” “It’s not sad!” “They go like, purrrrrrr-” “Do you think the captain would let us get a pet?”

Joong tries again, “Guys-”

“Why would I have gills?” “I’m just saying like San-” “Doubt he would, but that’d be awesome, actually…” “-because it’s not real, Jongho! None of it is real!” “Holy-  _ Shit  _ you are cynical-” “San has gills?” “Wh- Y-Yes… Mingi, what did you think those things on his neck are?” “-m more of a puppy person, though…”

“Guys!” Hongjoong bursts up and barks loudly. The sudden movement makes him spill his tea, and hot liquid splashes all over his torso. “Ffffffffuuuuuck-!” Joong hisses as steam comes off his jacket. In a pained panic, Joong rips off his outerlayer and throws it across the room, face contorted with burning pain. The sudden motion hikes his up his torso, and that’s when the maid has the good fortune to return with a hovertray of tea sandwiches.

Hongjoong’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops open in horror. While everyone else had been shouting conversations like damn savages, of course it’s him who’s put in the compromising position of looking like a stripper with his hair mussed and chest out.

“I, uh, spilled tea,” The captain coughs out sheepishly. Embarrassment sears his face, burning his cheeks and ears. He presses his lips together tight as he slowly lowers himself back onto the couch. He finds his jacket draped over the corner of the coffee table. As if cued by his gaze, the garment falls to the ground a second later. “I, um, it all got on my jacket, I think. Nothing on the upholstery…”

The maid simply smiles, “Oh, that’s no problem at all. May I see your jacket?”

“Oh, yeah. Lemme just-” Hongjoong answers. He gets up to grab it, but the maid is swift. She plucks it off the ground before Joong can reach.

“It doesn’t look too bad at all. I’ll have this back to you in a few minutes,” She says. “I just wanted to drop these off. Fresh from the kitchen.” She gracefully transfers the tiered display dishes onto the coffee table.

“You- You’ll what-?”

“Now, we’ve got cucumber sandwiches, strawberry sandwiches, fig rolls, mince nut tartlets, smoked pate on toast. Can I get you anything else?”

“Uh-” Joong grunts. The others exchange wide-eyed gazes before shrugging and shaking their heads.

“Very well, then. The mayor’ll be in soon. I’ll be right back.” With that, the woman excuses herself again. Another spell of silence falls over the group in her wake. It’s strange, being waited on. The only one used to it is Mingi, no doubt.

“She’s gonna give that back, right?” Yunho asks.

“Captain,” Yeosang says. “Pull your shirt down.”

“Wh- Oh,” Joong croaks. He never realized he didn’t actually pull his shirt down. He’d just given the poor maid a gratuitous view of pale chest and stomach. “Oh god.”

“Don’t worry,” Jongho snarks. “We all enjoyed the show.”

Joong rolls his eyes and combs his hands through his hair. The conversation that ensues following is quieter, at the very least. Though Hongjoong can’t assure the subject matter is entirely appropriate, he’s happy to see his crew getting along.

The next time their chatter is interrupted, it’s by an older gentleman in the doorway. Hongjoong stands, prompting the others to do so, and greets the man. 

“Hello,” Hongjoong says. He’s not sure if it’s customary to bow to mayors, but for some reason he feels inclined to do it. Maybe it’s the man’s appearance. Compared to everyone else he’d met so far the man is, as Yunho might put it, “shiny”. His white suit is pressed perfectly. As dusty as Tass is, the crisp linen appears completely unmarred by the floating specks of dirt that plague the place. He’s got eyes bluer than the projected sky up above, and they look striking in contrast with his sun-worn skin. He’s tall, and if it wasn’t for the genial smile on his face he’d probably be insanely intimidating.

“Well how do you all do? Erik Jonessen, Mayor of this fine settlement,” The man extends a hand. Hongjoong takes it, returning with a firm shake and a nod. “I take it you are Captain Kim Joohong- did I pronounce that right?”

“You did,” Joong chuckles, hoping he doesn’t sound as nervous as he suddenly feels. At this point, the captain thinks it’s a thing about figures of authorities. Government officials just make him antsy now - even if they’re friendly old men from the middle of nowhere, apparently.

“And this must be your fine crew of geologists. Much obliged,” Mayor Jonessen gives them a nod. “Please, now don’t be standing up on my accord. I’m just a man like everyone else. Take a seat, take a seat.” He waves to the crew, urging them to sit down. Just a man with a massive mansion who runs a town, Joong muses. They crew obliges the man’s prompting, and the Mayor finds an empty chair next to the couch Hongjoong had been sitting on.

“Now, to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Kim?” Jonessen asks. He clasps his hands and smiles, waiting. Much like the sheriff, the older gentleman comes across as disarming in a way that jubilant, genial men can occasionally be.

“Well, there’s a few things I wanted to get discuss with you, face to face,” Hongjoong starts. He casts his anxieties aside and commits fully to their farce yet again. He can tell from the town and the people that they’re simple people. They value simplicity, forthrightness, directness. They’re a no-nonsense type, and discussing matters face to face is intrinsic to these types of societies where bureaucracy is scarcely present in day to day life.

“And let me tell you,” Jonessen responds with a smile, “I appreciate that very much. You didn’t have to.”

“I think we did,” Hongjoong replies, playing into it more. “As you know, we’re geologists on a scholarly mission. However, we don’t choose our sites, they’re assigned to us. When we landed here, we didn’t know the state of the planet or where we’d be put to work. I’d like to apologize for any disturbance our presence here has caused. We had no idea it was such a new settlement.”

“Oh, you don’t need to apologize. It’s fun, it really is. Don’t get many visitors around these parts,” The mayor answers.

“So I’ve heard. We’re thrilled to be here, though. It’s a really cool experience to visit an up and coming settlement. Right guys?” Hongjoong turns to the others. They all responds with wide-eyed nods. Joong figures it’s not fair that he gets bogged down with all the slick talking. Might as well bring them into it, too (even if only out of petty spite).

“Yes, we are excited about our little corner of the galaxy. She’s small and quaint, but she’s ours. We’ve built her from the ground up.”

“Now, this is kind of off topic, but I’m curious, how new is it? Have you been here since the beginning?” Get them talking about themself and stroke their ego - sweettalking fundamentals that Hongjoong learned when he started really haggling for junk prices as a teen.

Jonessen glows with pride, preening, “I sure was. Three decades now. Worked my way up from builder to mayor. That’s what I like about a new colony. Endless possibilities out on this frontier. Even a common man like me can make something of himself.”

In truth, the only “possibility” Hongjoong sees on the frontier is dust. But he’s not about to say that. To each their own, he tells himself.

“Well, congratulations,” Hongjoong smiles. “Now, regarding my reason for visiting you personally, I had a couple of questions about our prospective dig site.”

“Alright,” The mayor sits back and folds his hands in his lap. “Down to the nitty gritty. Tell me about your dig operation. Is it gonna require machinery? Demolition?”

“Actually, our samples don’t need to be very large at all, so no large specialized equipment will be needed. There won’t be any blasting, so there should be no disturbance to the townspeople. However, I wanted your approval before going in regardless,” Hongjoong takes out his comm. He taps a few options, putting it in free-float and crystallized scaling. 

  
The captain sets the comm at eye level and grabs opposite corners, pulling at each one until the comm screen stretches to about standard monitor size. The mayor’s eyes light up with interest at the tech. It’s probably the most advanced thing he’s seen in years. Courtesy of their very own Kang Yeosang, Joong’s pretty sure if he told the man Yeo made it, he’d demand the cyborg stay and build for them.

Hongjoong taps into the map where their target beacon blinks peacefully, just clicks away.

“Now, we’re here, and that’s supposed to be our dig site. Is that alright to you?”

For the first time since entering the room, the mayor’s smile falters ever so slightly. He stands up and leans close to the screen, stroking his chin in thought. After a moment of quiet assessment, the man stands up straight and regards the crew in the room.

“There’s seven of you fellas, right?”

“Um, yes,” Hongjoong answers, trying to hide his bafflement. “It’s seven. Why?”

“You look pretty strong. Any of you good fighters?” The mayor asks. 

San opens his mouth, but Wooyoung clamps his hand over it before the siren can insist his competence. 

“We’re not exactly trained soldiers, but, um, we’re fit, I guess,” Hongjoong frowns. “Why?”

The mayor heaves a sigh, setting his hands on his hips. His face falters, a shadow of dejection casting over his work worn features.

“Truth is, that there’s the old mine.”

“Old mine?” Hongjoong asks, brows raised incredulously. How old can anything be in the place? He guesses that old is very, very relative.

“She was built before the settlers came in. Coalition put her there to provide for us. Coal and lentumite, deeper down. She was operational for the first ten years, but there were too many issues with flooding. Had a nasty cave-in and we called it quits.”

“Oh,” Hongjoong frowns. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” He can only imagine the devastation that a mine cave-in would wrack across a small town like Tass. How many of their people worked in that mine? How many spouses and siblings were lost? Not to mention the impact it would have on the already fragile, barely established economy.

“What’s done is done,” The man responds, resigned. “Recent years, bandits been running rampant. They’ve hit us a few times.”

“Right,” Hongjoong nods. “The sheriff mentioned that.” He wonders what they’re doing about security to deal with them. Save for the old sheriff, Joong didn’t see any semblance of law enforcement. Perhaps everyone is personally armed. But is that enough to stave off a group of bandits? Depending on the number, they could easily overwhelm someone in their home. He throws the thoughts away, annoyed at his brain’s tendency to wander off on tangents.

“Yeah, they’ve been a real thorn in our side, them fellas in black,” Jonessen shakes his head. “For whatever reason, the bastards - pardon my language - think they can get something out of that old mine. But she’s shut down. Never yielded much in the first place, really. So let them try, I say.”

“I see,” Hongjoong says. “Would you consent to allowing us to collect samples? I genuinely promise we are not here to steal minerals.”

The mayor looks Hongjoong up and down for a minute, sizing him up. Joong squirms beneath the other’s discerning gaze. His heart beats loudly in his ears, nerves flaring up from his stomach to his chest. What are they going to do if he says no? Hongjoong hadn’t entertained the possibility that they wouldn’t be allowed. Sure, they could go anyway (in truth, he knows that’s what they would do - there’s no other option). Still, what if that puts the people on high alert? What if they’re put under watch?

“Go on ahead,” Jonessen says with a smile and a wave. “

Hongjoong suppresses the urge to let out a long, relieved breath. The captain grins. 

“Thank you,” The captain replies gratefully. “You are doing a wonderful service to the pursuit of science.”

“Now don’t go thanking me yet, I don’t remember what kinda blocks we got on there…” The man strokes his chin in thought. “I think it’s just a physical barricade. Yeah. She’s boarded up.”

“We’ll replace and refortify the closure after finishing our collection,” Hongjoong responds almost too enthusiastically. Excitement alight anew, he’s ready to go. He’s almost vibrating, eager and wanting to sprint to the beacon. Joong sticks out a hand. “That alright with you, sir?”

  
The mayor returns with a firm handshake and a white smile, “Well, that’s fine by me. Now, it is not my intention to keep you all from your honest work too long, but, please-” He waves to the spread of sandwiches and dainty tea set on the coffee table, “-Can’t imagine excavation or what have you is easy work. Get your fill before going.”

“Thank you, mayor,” Hongjoong responds.

“No, thank you for visiting our humble little dust bowl,” Jonessen chuckles. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to excuse myself.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Now don’t you leave too many leftovers, though!” He laughs, “Miss Ava worked hard on those little things. God I love them. ‘Specially the ones with the- the pink stuff. Well, you all have a good dig now.” He leaves with a wave and a smile, taking up almost the entire door frame as he exits.

Awed silence rolls in after his departure. Happy to oblige the man’s invitation to eat, a few of the crew lean forward to grab handfuls of finger sandwiches. Joong is pretty sure Yunho put a couple of tartlets into his pocket, but the captain decides not to mention it.

“Well,” Jongho says. “He was nice.”

“ _ Too _ nice,” Yeosang murmurs. 

“Shut up and eat your sandwiches,” Hongjoong hushes the other. “We don’t get kindness like this a lot. Let’s enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Mm- Oh my god, he’s right,” Yunho slurs, cheeks puffed out like a rodent’s full of food. “These pink ones are great.”

* * *

Hongjoong wipes his wrist over his forehead. We winces at the nasty, sticky, wet sensation of sweat seeping into his jacket sleeve.

Fuck.

It’s hot.

He squints, trying to make out the shapes in the horizon, to formulate them into something that seems real. Boiling hot air smudges all sorts of mysterious splotches and splatters of dull color in the distance. Another stiff breeze kicks up, but with it comes no respite. Far from it, actually. Hot air blows through the crew, cooking them from the outside in like a goddamn microwave. They cower under the paltry and far between stripes of shade they can find - a lone tree here, a fat cactus there. It’s mostly grass, though. Grass and rock and dust. So, so much dust. When the wind kicks up - as it so often does - it drags all the surface dust with it, enveloping them in a smoky cloud of dirt. When the wind dies down, the dust remains, taking its sweet time to settle onto the ground and mix with the sweat on the surface of their skin.

“How much further?” Hongjoong asks over his shoulder. Wooyoung had taken up nav duties.

He squints at his comm and answers, “Less than a quarter a click. See that tree over there?”

Hongjoong follows the other’s pointed finger, eyes settling on the small cluster of trees in the distance. He’s relieved that someone else noticed them. It means they’re not a mirage (which he’d been afraid of).

After what feels like eons (but had really been about twenty minutes of walking), the crew reaches their destination. The wind dies down, and Hongjoong lowers his collar which he’d popped up as makeshift dust protection. The mine entrance is unsuspecting, nothing more than a mound of dirt with boards over an opening.

“Take a rest under the tree,” Hongjoong tells his crew. He doesn’t have to ask them twice. The majority of them crumble under the sparse shade of the ragged canopy. 

Joong approaches the boarded up entrance, ever curious Yeosang at his side. The captain sizes up the fortification. It’s simple, really. Elementary. Worn boards nailed across a wooden frame. Probably scrap wood, by the looks of it. Or maybe the dusty winds have just eroded it to that extent. Joong doesn’t know, nor does he care. Beyond the slats lies his goal, a piece of the Compass.

A step further to the Treasure.

The captain steps back and lifts a leg experimentally. He steels himself, counting to three before delivering a swift kick to one of the boards.

_ “Craaaack!” _

“Oh- Shit-!” The yelps.

“Hm,” Joong grunts, observing his handiwork. He hadn’t split it completely, but it did splinter and give under the force of his kick. He tries not to look as proud of himself as he feels. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Jongho shouts from the tree a few meters away.

“We’re kicking this shit in!” Joong yells back, steadying himself again.

“Oh for fuck’s- Let me!” Jongho shouts. He hoists himself off the ground and charges over, yanking the captain by his jacket. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Wh-” Hongjoong laughs, “I’m fine. Look I almost-”

_ “Craaaaack!” _

Without any apparent effort, Jongho rips off one of the boards with his bare hands. That stops the captain’s protest dead in its tracks. Jongho smirks and raises his eyebrows as if to say “I told you so”. The captain, pride not at all wounded, steps back and allows the other to yank off the boards.

With each board removed, it’s like watching a puzzle’s picture gradually being revealed. Except, the more that Hongjoong sees, the less pleased he is. Behind the wooden slats is not the opening to a cave as he thought, but a heavy looking metal door. Even beneath layers of dirt and grime, after years of wear, the Coalition footprint is undeniable. The logo is engraved in the center of the door, and to the right of it a metal panel juts out of the rock formation.

“Think you can open that?” Hongjoong asks the youngest.

Jongho pouts his lips, actually considering it.

“I’m kidding,” Joong says. He can just barely make out the seam in the middle of the door. Hongjoong doubts Jongho could manage to get even a fingernail between the two halves. The captain’s gaze turns to the panel at the side.

“Already on it,” Yeosang replies without need for verbal prompting. God, does Hongjoong appreciate the cyborg. “Though I can’t say I know much about Coalition tech. I only ever deal with their scraps…” He mumbles.

“Hey, Woo!” Hongjoong calls over to the first mate. Wooyoung, who’d been laughing about something with Yunho and San, obliges the captain’s beckoning.

“What’s up?” Wooyoung asks as he approaches.

“You know Coalition tech, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorta. Why? You need help, Yeo?”

Yeosang frowns, “Yeah. This is definitely Coalition security. But it’s really bare bones… Woo, what does this look like to you?”

“I thought they just sealed it off,” Hongjoong says.

Wooyoung leans forward, inspecting the console closely. It’s entirely unremarkable. It looks like a metal box with a miniscule screen to Hongjoong. He can’t imagine what kind of functionality it could possibly have. There’s no keypad, and there’s no way the screen is big enough to display anything meaningful.

“This is an old retinal scanner,” Wooyoung says.

“Shit,” Yeo mutters. “That’s what I thought.”

“Is that gonna be a problem?” Hongjoong asks. He feels stupid, but he genuinely doesn’t know. To his knowledge, locks can be picked. There’s a workaround for everything.

At least, there ought to be, he thinks.

Yeosang and Wooyoung exchange downtrodden looks. From their expressions, Hongjoong can tell that one of them wants to break bad news. The captain’s heart falls into his stomach.

Wooyoung apparently loses the battle of wills and is the one to respond first, “This is straightup retinal scan. Only someone Coalition can unlock this thing.”

“Wh- It can’t be hacked?” Hongjoong raises his eyebrows incredulously.

“Okay-” Yeosang, clearly vexed, cuts in. “Let me explain it like this. This technology is very, very simplistic and stripped down. You can’t- You can’t hack something like this. There’s nothing to hack it’s like… It’s like trying to open a can with a whisk. It just doesn’t work like that. Unless we can blast all this rock and get into the wiring that connects it physically to the door, we’re not gonna have the ability to mess with the software- Jongho stop that!” The cyborg chastises their youngest who, bless his soul, tries to get his fingers in the crack.

“If I can just- just get in there,” Jongho grimaces with exertion at his attempt.”

“You can’t be serious,” Hongjoong replies, crestfallen. “Look- Well, maybe the mayor has clearance.”

“Doubt that,” Wooyoung says. “I dunno how long he’s been mayor, but if this has been out of commission for twenty years, he probably doesn’t have the clearance.”

“So who the fuck is this gonna open up for, then?” Hongjoong asks, anxiety steadily rising. He can’t fathom the possibility of not being able to reach the piece. The idea hadn’t occurred to him, really. Yet again, his desire had caused his vision to tunnel. Now that he’s hit with reality, he finds himself at a loss, grasping desperately at optimistic solutions.

“Um, I can try to get into the panel,” Yeosang frowns, fingering at the seams of the metal against rock. “I dunno, though, I- Um, if I can get tools, maybe…” He taps at it idly, and the scanning beam projects. Yeosang flinches at the sudden flash of light. Hongjoong does, too. Even though tiny, his mind immediately recalls their time in BH.

_ “Bzzzt.” _ The console buzzes, flashing red with rejection. Wooyoung, all the while, purses his lips in thought.

“Okay, this was all set up by Coalition,” He says, arms crossed, tapping his toe as he thinks aloud. “And colonies are set up for easy Coalition access. Officers drop by for random inspections, sometimes. They do genuinely ‘secret shop’ which means…”

“Which means what?” Hongjoong prods insistently.

“The Coalition wants their hands in everything. This place is in the boonies, and they probably don’t give a shit… Usually facilities are independently linked to interstellar networks so they can operate and feed data regardless of a startup’s infrastructure status.”

“So?” Hongjoong asks, brows raised confusedly. “What? They snoop on new colonies?”

“Well, yes, but what I mean to say is that, technically, while the hardware is old, its software should be up to date.”

“I thought it was stupid simple, though.”

“It is, but that doesn’t mean it’s not updated.”

“So, what is the point?” Hongjoong asks stressedly.

“Hm…” Wooyoung steps in front of the console and leans forward. The beam runs up and down his eyeball. After a hefty second of consideration:

“Bzzzt.” It buzzes again.

“Yeah, okay,” Wooyoung says, frowning.

“What is it?” The captain presses.

“Only someone enlisted can open one of these up.”

“Well fuck,” Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose. Pain knocks at his temples, and he’s not sure if it’s stress or dehydration. It’s probably both, he muses. “You think they’ve got any Coalition in town?”

“We’d be fucked if they did,” Woo responds.

“Alright, so my next question is, how can we trick it?”

“We don’t have to,” Yeosang chimes in. His face, which had been previously knit into an expression of frustration, relaxes.

“Huh?” Hongjoong grunts.

The cyborg’s gaze meets his captain’s, and he reiterates himself, “We don’t have to trick the system. It’s just a boolean, right Woo?”

“Uh, yeah. It’ll just check against the list. Why?” The first mate tilts his head, equally as baffled as the captain.

“Because,” Yeosang answers, “We do know one person who’s in the Coalition system.”

“No,” Hongjoong snaps quickly. “Absolutely not.”

“Captain,” Yeosang responds in a soft, satiating tone. “Think about it-”

“I did. And we’re not doing that.”

“Why not?”

“Because. He’s a liability,” Hongjoong answers the other clippedly. Just the thought of the pompous platinum blond sets him off. His stomach roils with anger, the toiling emotion rolling over his entire body like a heated wave. It does nothing for his already feverish, sweaty body. He’s afraid he’ll turn into a pool of lava if he lends the other too much thought.

“There are seven of us and one of him,” Yeosang says calmly. “What is there to be afraid of?”

“Nothing! I’m not afraid of him!” The captain’s words come out so loudly that the others by the tree lift their heads to look. Joong coughs, another wave of heat rolling over his body - this one caused by embarrassment. “I’m- I’m not afraid of anything. I just don’t trust him. You turn your back for a single second and he’ll drive a knife into it.”

Yeosang narrows his eyes and leans in, lowering his voice to a murmur, “Is that what he did back on the ship?”

“Captain,” Wooyoung cuts in. Hongjoong isn’t sure if he heard or not. If he did, he apparently doesn’t care because he makes no comment. “I think it’s a good idea. We can take that guy, easy.”

“Come on,” Yeo adds, his voice normal again. “This is for the Treasure.”

Hongjoong huffs angrily. 

Vitriol stews in his stomach just thinking about cooperating with him again. He’s not sure he can face the man, if he can cope with the unsettling azure eyes boring into his soul, judging him.

Hongjoong huffs angrily. It’s not that he’s angry at his crew for the proposal. It’s logical. He’s angry at himself, really. It upsets him knowing that he allows the other to affect him. It upsets him to think that he would nearly pass up this chance at Treasure just because of the imposition he’s somehow projected onto the other.

The Petty Officer can’t hurt him, he reminds himself. Not like this, anyway. Not when he’s surrounded by his crew, not when he’s got a determined mission. He won’t hurt him, and he won’t hurt the crew. Because Hongjoong won’t allow it.

Not this time.

Not ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

“You want me to what?” Seonghwa chuckles in disbelief. The petty officer can’t believe the lows to which he’s been stooped. The last thing he intends to do is to help Captain Kim’s Merry Band of Morons break into a mine. He wants off this ride.

“I’m sorry, did it sound like a request?” The captain asks facetiously. “I meant to say that you  _ are _ going to come to this mine, open up those baby blues and get us in. Unless you’d prefer to donate your eye to the cause.”

“Wh- I’d more happily perish than donate my body to you!” The blond narrows his eyes, “I mean, really. Breaking and entering? Are there any other petty crimes you’d like me to be accessory to or do we intend to step it up to homicide?”

“I really don’t care what you think. You’re doing it,” The captain says. “Or else.”

“ _ Please _ ,” Yeosang, who’d come to the brig with the captain, tacks on. Seonghwa appreciates the sliver of grace, but he opts not to let it show.

Seonghwa considers the pieces before him. He considers the possibilities, what they could do to him, what he could perhaps do to them. This is in no way a winning situation for the petty officer. He’s greatly outnumbered, and if he’s to be out in the open with the rest of the captain’s pawns, he’ll never have a chance to make an appeal to the one sensible person among them. Overpowering them isn’t an option. Depending on the captain’s hubris, he may be able to slip away at some point. But that means he has to play nice and cooperate.

The idea irks him.

However, the idea of spending more time in the bone cold, oppressively silent brig is infinitely more irksome. At the very least, being dragged out to be an accessory to crime will get him fresh air. Seonghwa laments the fact that getting out to do wrong has become a small victory in his book. He prays that one day he can look back at all of this and laugh while polishing the medal of honor he got for sacking these dipshits.

But that doesn’t mean he needs to give it up easily.

“I’ll cooperate, but I want something.”

“Wh- This isn’t a negotiation!” The captain barks angrily.

“You’re dragging me across the galaxy for the sake of your delusions. If you’re really telling the truth and you’re not just taking me out to the backwoods to execute me, then why don’t you show me?”

“Show you- show you what?!” The man with the mullet asks, cross.

“The Compass,” Seonghwa says with a smirk. “You know the ancient, fabled device that you of all people supposedly have in your possession.”

The captain glowers at him. All the while, Yeosang stands aside, coolly observing. Strangely enough, his expression doesn’t stir at the mention of the device. For a person so intelligent, Seonghwa figures Yeosang of all people would be skeptical. Yet, for some reason, he follows the captain in spite of his ridiculous claims. Seonghwa doesn’t believe the captain. Not for a second. But he is curious as to what the man  _ does _ have to so enrapture his people. Surely his crew isn’t loyal to him due to his charms. Does he have some sort of a convincing con constructed? Or is there something even more sinister going on like brainwashing?

No, Seonghwa thinks. The man is certainly convinced he possesses the damn thing. That much he gathered from their time sharing a cell on the Anaconda. But it can’t be true. What does he have, then? What is it that so greatly inspires this man - and his crew? These people have left a trail of wreckage in their wake, and Seonghwa has to know: why? Why? For  _ what _ ?

“I have nothing to prove to you,” He spits back.

“Because you have nothing to show,” Seonghwa responds.

“Oh, please-”

“You’re full of shit,” Hwa huffs. “And I am sick of being at the whims of a pathetic, unhinged con artist.” This time, he does look to Yeo, because his own nerves are being frayed. How much longer can this go on? He doesn’t know how much he can take. He doesn’t want to begrudge the cyborg for toeing the line - but does Yeosang genuinely believe this?

The cyborg throws his hands up and walks away. Seonghwa’s heart falls, and his eyes go wide as he watches the other leave the brig. It’s like seeing his single life line - his one shred of asylum in the hellish isolation he’s known for weeks - reject him.

Seonghwa growls, more ruffled than ever that his solace has departed, “How much longer do you intend to keep up this charade? To stake lives and commit crimes for it?”

“Char- You know what?” The captain steps forward and pounds his hand on the keypad. The door to the cell slides open. Caught by surprise, Seonghwa isn’t fast enough to stop the other from lunging forward and grabbing him by the collar.

  
Suddenly, the blond finds himself dragged. He’s yanked out of his cell and dragged down the corridor. He briefly notices Yeosang in the open bay before he’s pulled up the stairs.

“Wh- What are you doing?!” Seonghwa squawks, unnerved. They’re not in flight, so it’s not as if the man is going to drop him or throw him out the airlock. The bathrooms are upstairs by Hwa’s recollection. Does the man intend to drown him? Or will he have the siren finish the job?

  
Seonghwa struggles against the other’s grasp, but his efforts are dissuaded when he sees the living area full of people. Vaguely familiar faces turn and stare at the spectacle of their tiny captain tugging their prisoner along like dog on a lead. Hwa is taken past the living area and up the steps into the kitchen. More faces turn and watch with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Is this seriously how he runs a ship? Must this man  _ always _ make a scene?

Hwa is pulled up another set of stairs and that’s when the man finally releases his grip, throwing the other forward. Seonghwa stumbles forward, crashing into a console in the middle of the small room. The blond coughs out as pain shoots through his stomach up to his ribs. He’s not given much of a break, though. Fingers card through his hair and grip tightly, slamming his face into something.

Seonghwa grimaces as his cheek collides with something cool and smooth. 

“Take a good look,” The captain says, voice dripping with menace. He presses Seonghwa’s face further into whatever it is.

Hwa opens the eye he  _ can _ open and glances down. Half of it is blurred, but from what he can see his face is being shoved into something glass. Its shape isn’t conventional, though. It’s curved. An orb? Beneath the crystalline surface there’s nothing but a blur of metal, fogged by his own breath. Wrought, brassy bits and bobs make up the bottom of the strange structure. It looks entirely nonsensical, like nothing Seonghwa has never seen before. The petty officer plants his hands on either side of his face and resists the other’s force. 

The captain lets up, allowing the other to finally stand upright. Seonghwa huffs angrily. He can’t do shit. His only way out is blocked by the rest of his crew. He wouldn’t get out alive, and even the thought of just taking down the asshole with him isn’t thrilling enough to motivate him anymore. He’s just tired, and if the man sees fit to drag him to the supposed source of his insanity, he’s not opposed to indulging his curiosity.

Seonghwa steps back to take a look at the damn thing. His brows knit immediately at the sight of it. Perched atop a navcon is a strange round thing. Its base is a brassy metal, and in the middle a glass orb sits on top. Pecuiliar engravements cover the metallic piece inside and out. Hwa leans over to further inspect the interior. Lots of parts appear to be missing. The inside does look like a compass, though - incremental ticks covering the brassy permieter. Symbols indicate directions, though they look like no letter or language Seonghwa knows of.

It’s unbelievably strange. Seonghwa wonders if it’s at all functional. It doesn’t appear to be. If slamming his face against the thing didn’t provoke some sort of display or action, he doesn’t know what will. Unconsciously, his fingers graze the brassy base, tracing the wrought carvings. They feel rough on his fingers. Though a strange thought, he can’t help realizing he hasn’t felt something like this in a long time. Something rough. Even something so simple as a texture feels new again after being cooped up for so long. Or maybe it’s simply because the texture is new, genuinely so. He doesn’t know.

There are no buttons. No instructions. No prompts, knobs, switches, operational nodes, pads or screens.

“What is this?” The words slip out unintentionally. Seonghwa snaps his lips shut, embarrassed. He doesn’t wish to feed into the captain’s delusion.

The man doesn’t answer, though. Hwa dares to venture a peek at the man, and he simply raises his brows as if to say “I told you so”. He rests against the door to the lower decks - his way out.

“I mean- It’s not- Just because it looks like-” Seonghwa laughs dryly. “I didn’t mean that I thought it was-”

The captain once again gives him another infuriatingly smug look. His lips begin turning up into a smile - something the officer simply cannot abide.

“Oh, please,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “This doesn’t prove anything. All this proves is that you’ve found some strange antique, and that you-” He leans heavily against the thing just to piss the captain off more. “-are full of it, Captain-”

“-Captain Maddox’s logbook, day thirty-one,” A voice rings out.

Seonghwa’s eyes widen, and he jumps at the sudden sound. He wonders if the captain’s truly snapped, if he’s decided monologuing would somehow prove his point. But the captain isn’t speaking. He’s still planted in the same spot, except now his eyes are wide and a hand is pressed over his mouth in shock.

It wasn’t his voice that spoke. But then who was it? Another crew member?

“We’ve been on this journey for about a month’s time…”

Seonghwa turns to the source of the voice, and his jaw drops. Above the glassy orb of the mechanism a flickering projection flashes. The image of a man fills the space above, so real that if not for his sickly blue hue, Hwa would think he could reach out and touch him.

Wait.

  
What did he call himself?

Maddox?

Where has he heard that name before? It sounds familiar yet alien at the same time.   
  


“My heart aches for the Treasure though I know not what it is. Does your heart ache, too?”

“Wh-Who is that?” Seonghwa asks with wide eyes.

“It’s him,” The captain murmurs hushedly, his eyes wet. “It’s the explorer.”

“Th- Wh-” Pressure clenches Seonghwa’s heart. The dull ache radiates from his chest across his entire body. He can’t explain the sensation - what it is or why he feels it. It’s almost as if he’s being squeezed from the inside out.

“Do you feel it here?” The projection asks, clenching a fist in the middle of his chest.

Panic spikes in the officer’s gut. Surely, the rhetorical had been coincidence. Surely.

“It’s beckoning you, that Treasure,” The man says. “So hurry up and leave. G-o-... f-f-f-” The projection starts glitching, fuzzy artifacts distorting the man’s visage as the noise warps into something chopped and screechy. “-f-f-f-fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnddddd-”

“Wh-What’s happening?” Seongwha asks, backing away from the thing. The shrill drone of the sound makes his ears ring. Though he covers them, it’s as if the noise has drilled into his ears completely. “What’s going on?”

The captain winces, “I- I don’t know- what did you do?!” He shouts over the din.

“What did I do? What did  _ you _ do?! Isn’t this  _ your _ Compass?” Seonghwa demands.

“The thing isn’t stable and wait- so you believe me?”

“Wh- I never-! I mean- I-!”

Suddenly the sound stops. With it, the light dies completely. Hwa drops his hands from his ears, relieved. 

“Shit,” The captain curses, pushing past the blond to clamor at the device. He leans down and starts pressing at it. He presses, prods, pokes and scrutinizes, searching manically for something. “Shit, shit, shit-”

Seonghwa eyes the now unoccupied bridge door. Briefly, the idea of escape seduces the blond. It’s imprudent, though. A fantasy that would surely end with consequences worse than his current arrangements.

“Fuck- How did you do that-?” The captain curses quietly.

Seonghwa waits for the man’s madness to die down. He huffs, leaning against the wall and idly watching the captain fuss over his precious object. The man’s like a grackle fascinated by a shiny object. Hwa can’t help but mull over the strange video log himself.

Who was that?

Maddox.

  
He said his name is Maddox.

Maddox.

Maddox.

Why does that sound so familiar?

Maddox.

“You probably know him as Dex,” Hongjoong answers.

Seonghwa jolts out of his daze. He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud. Embarrassed, he presses his lips shut. He begrudges the captain for being right.

“Of course, some tellings chronicle him as Captain Mads,” The captain continues without prompting. “His actual name is Maddox, though. As you saw. Somehow…” He grumbles.

Without warning, a hand closes around Seonghwa’s wrist. The blond yelps as the captain yanks his hand forward and places it on the glassy orb again.

“Wh- What the hell are you doing?!” Hwa demands.

The captain’s brows furrow, “How did you touch it before?”

“Excuse me? How- What!?”

“How did you touch this before? What did you do?”

“Wh- I didn’t do anything. If you’re referring to the- the transmission thing, I have no idea. Wh-Whatever this thing is, it certainly needs fixing.”

“No- You said it,” The captain asserts. “You  _ called _ it the Compass.”

“I didn’t mean I believed you. I can see how it looks like a Compass. I suppose it fits the descriptions of the storybooks, but that’s just- it’s not realistic.”

“God- You would so rather believe in the status quo than question it, wouldn’t you?”

“Fairytales aren’t real,” Seonghwa insists. He moves to remove his hand from the glassy surface, but a small palm presses his hand down.

“It’s not a fairytale,” The captain gets into Seonghwa’s space, dark eyes latching onto the Petty Officer’s blue ones. “And I think part of you knows that.”

“All I know is that you’re insane,” Seonghwa moves his hand more forcefully. “Just because I can’t explain every detail of your… Thing doesn’t mean I think it’s real.”

The captain resists the movement, pushing it into the glass more intently, “I think you’re having a little cognitive dissonance.”

“I think it’s cute that you know such big words,” Hwa spits back. “Now if you would kindly accept that you’ve failed in your attempt at convincing me-” Seonghwa tries to wrest his hand back, but the captain slams it down. Seonghwa feels glass impact bone, and another spike of pain runs down to his carpals. “Fuck-!” He snaps.

Suddenly, light flickers to life again.

  
The two in the bridge pause, their attention yet again diverted to the projection above. However, this time, it’s different. There is no man speaking to a viewport. The picture above is a hazy, wide frame. Static fizzles, specking the hazy image with pocks of distortion.

Seonghwa can just barely discern shapes in the noisy darkness. There’s two lumps, and a light just beyond them. It’s wide. Somehow, the blond knows it’s a window.

“...-e ...ot th...e…” A voice comes out, so wrought by static that it’s barely discernible. The vaguely shaped lumps shift, and the picture just ever so slightly clears. They’re on a bed, the two silhouettes. 

“-wan- no… or- leas-” Voices occasionally pierce the veil of disturbed soundwaves.

“-ou know what happ...pens…” The response is clearer, and Seonghwa is rapt. He leans forward, curious.

“-ut mama-” There it is, ringing high and clear. Though the voice is still outlined by significant heft of disturbance, and the picture is no clearer, its words are legible. And the owner of one of the voices is very clearly a child. “-it’s my favorite.”

“You’re falling asleep, baby,” The voice belonging to the mother coos. It’s such a kind, satiating tone. Seonghwa’s heart aches. It reminds him of his own mother.

“Then skip to the end,” The hazy child says.

“Alright,” The mother laughs. The image swims temporarily, a quiet mess of dancing pixels and points until the woman speaks yet again. “And so, with the mighty Treasure, Captain Dex warped back to the Planet Nebeline. Dex landed on the surface, putting his ship on the highest peak of the highest mountain so he could be closest to the meteor-”

“He-he-” The child giggles, mirthful and bubbly. Innocent.

“Stop laughing, we haven’t finished yet!” The mother softly chides her child. “Now, where were we… Ah! Captain Dex held up the sparkling golden staff triumphantly. He waved it so it caught the fleeting sun’s rays, and he declared: ‘You are not welcome on this planet! For my wish, I wish to banish this meteor so the people of Nebeline can live out their peaceful lives!’. Suddenly, the meteor began to crack. Tiny splinters turned into giant cracks until-”

“Boom!” The child bursts up, the sudden noise in movement practically ripping apart the entire fleeting projection. Seonghwa watches on, hypnotised. Something ill stirs in his gut.

“-that’s right, boom.”

“Hehehe-!” The boy titters.

“Hey, now settle down! Where did my sleepy boy from seconds ago disappear to? It’s bedtime.”

“Hehehe-” The boy’s giggling dies down, and his lumpy outline morphs into his mother’s. He’s hugging her, Seonghwa figures. “Mama, when I get the Treasure I’m gonna wish for there to never be bedtime.”

“Oh, really?” The woman chuckles indulgently. “Is that so?”

The sick sensation in Seonghwa’s gut intensifies.

You only get one wish.

“You ony get one wish,” She says with a laugh. “Are you sure you want to use it on that?”

Yeah.

“Yeah,” The boy laughs.

“Well, if you find the Treasure, I suppose you can do anything you want…”

The edges of the officer’s vision beging to smear and blur, melding into the edges of the projection. His stomach turns, and the pressure in his chest tightens.

But until then.

“But until then, I’m still your mother, and you still have to go to bed.”

“Ugh, fine!” The boy throws himself back onto the bed.

Good night.

“Good night,” The mother coos, tucking him in extra tight.

Night mama.

“Night mama,” The boy replies.

“Sweet dreams, my little Mars.”

That’s captain.

“That’s Captain Mars to yo-ooo-Oo-Oo-” The voice’s pitch shifts, and static soon washes out the noise. The picture promptly fades, giving way to pure and utter silence.

Seonghwa feels as if he’d gotten punched in the gut. How much time passes as he stands there statue still, petrified in place by shock? He has no idea. It takes him minutes to get his bearings. As if gradually coming out of a deep sleep, Seonghwa slowly takes in his surroundings. He’s in the bridge of a stolen combat freighter.

He scans his surroundings and remembers that he’s sharing this space with the person who’d captured and jailed him: Captain Kim Hongjoong. Seonghwa’s gaze inadverantly locks with the other’s. They’re both in a similar state of disarray, wide-eyed and confused. The captain swallows. His face twitches as if with the intention of speaking. However, nothing comes out. Then, it finally dawns on him that for the entire duration of the projection, the man’s had his hand resting atop his own. Both Seonghwa and Hongjoong glance at their interlaced fingers, and humiliation stabs the PO’s chest like a pike.

The blond pulls his hand away quickly as if he’d been burned. He may as well have been with the sear of mortification roasting him inside out.

“What the fuck did you do?” Seonghwa mutters, stepping back.

“Wha-?” The captain still appears at a loss. But there’s no other way to explain what happened.

“Wh-What did you do? How’d you do that?”

“Do what? Wh- Listen, I- I barely know how this thing works. I just wanted to see the captain’s log I- I don’t know what that was.”

“You don’t know- You don’t know how to explain that?” Seonghwa wrings a hand through his blond locks, feeling faint. He stumbles back into a wall and leans heavily against the cool metal. He needs the support.

“No. No I can’t. I- I can’t explain anything. Because not everything can be explained. All I know is that this Compass has lead me to different places for a reason. I’ve met wonderful people because of it, and I’m finally starting to put the pieces together.  _ That _ is the truth. That’s how I know this is real. That’s what my crew is banking on, relying on, believing in. Not because of a delusion like you say it is,” The captain preaches.

“Take me to the thing,” Seonghwa mutters numbly. The man’s eyes meet his, and the dark orbs are unfathomably intense. Seonghwa doesn’t have the strength to meet them. His gaze flees to the floor. “Just- Just do what you will. I’ll cooperate, I don’t care.”

Though Hwa doesn’t dare look up, he notices a distinct change in the man’s tone.

“Hey… Are you al- sick? You look like you’re gonna faint on me.”

“I’m fine,” Seonghwa responds numbly. “I’m fine.”

The following hours are a blur. All he can think about is that thing and what it showed him. He thinks about what it didn’t show him, too.

_ That’s Captain Mars to you...  _

_ And don’t you forget it. _

* * *

The crew prepared much more for their second trip to the mine. Hongjoong found UV blocking creams in the infirmary, and Yeo happened to have a barrier blanket for just such an occasion. The cyborg prompted some of his drones to carry the thing above them like a large umbrella. Most importantly: the captain found a stash of cuffs in an equipment closet.

Petty Officer Prettyboy marches silently alongside the captain. ATEEZ’s crew opted to walk behind the strip, avoiding the public eye. As kind as the people of Tass are, they’re also incredibly meddling. With the addition of the Petty Officer, there’d definitely be questions, and Hongjoong doesn’t feel like pushing their luck. The platinum blond looks around a lot, but he’s been mum ever since the episode in the bridge.

Whatever that was.

Hongjoong isn’t sure what troubles him more. The Captain’s logbook or the… Other thing. How did he coax it into working, anyway? Hongjoong and Yeosang have been messing with the thing for weeks to no avail. The Compass almost has an attitude about it. It’s a finnicky, moody thing that works when it feels so inclined.

So what is it about Petty Officer Park Seonghwa that made it feel so inclined?

Whatever happened that second time around, it shut the guy up. Joong is thankful for that. He gets a nagging feeling that the guy is starting to actually believe him. Not that he cared. He sure as fuck isn’t up at night vying for the guy’s validation or anything. It’s just nice to see him squirm a bit is all. Nothing puts a spring in a man’s step quite like rocking someone’s worldview. Espeically when that someone is a repugnant, condescending prick of a Coalition officer.

The crew makes smalltalk, obviously tense at the other guy’s presence. Save for Yeosang, almost everyone’s had a gnarly exchange or two with the guy. That’s fine by Joong. The projected sun is high in the sky, beating down relentlessly to signify midday. When they’re near the mine’s entrance yet again, Joong grabs the PO by the shirt and drags him to the console.

“Open,” Hongjoong demands, holding the blond up to the retinal scanner.

Petty Officer Prettyboy rolls his eyes but obliges without sass (thank god). He leans forward, and the tiny blue beam scans his eye up and down.

The seconds it takes for the computer to calculate tick on sluggishly.

_ “Beep!”  _ A happy green color confirms their entry, and a loud rumbling echoes from the door.

_ “Brrrbbrrbbr- screeeeeeee-!” _

Metal scraping on metal rings out across the dusty plane, making a few of the crew members flinch.

Through the entrance, Hongjoong can see a few crags and old scaffolding. However, the visible part of the cavern takes a steep dip, quickly receding into darkness.

Hongjoong shrugs, prompting for the others to follow him, “Let’s go.” He keeps a steady grip on the Petty Officer. Like hell is he letting that asshole out of sight. The platinum blond grimaces as he guided along.

The second Hongjoong crosses the threshold from desert to mine, the entire atmosphere changes. The first thing he notices is the smell. The distinct odor of wet must and dirt fill his nose. Compared to outside, everything is ten times darker and twenty times cooler.

“Ahh,” San sighs happily, “This is nice.”

“No kidding,” Wooyoung adds. Their voices echo, bouncing across the walls and down to whatever lies below.

“Jongho,” Hongjoong nods to the youngest. Jongho’s brows perk up, “Mind him, would you?” He nods to the prisoner. Jongho shrugs and obliges, taking a fistful of the PO’s black shirt and relieving his captain of babysitting duties. Hongjoong can tell that it irritates the shit out of the PO. He can just feel the irritation coming off of the other, and that fuels his mirth further. He smirks as he charges ahead, surveying what they can see of the cave.

“Wh- Shit-!” Yunho yelps behind Joong, a wet slipping noise filling the space. “It’s pretty damp in here, be careful.”

Hongjoong nods, treading further into the shadows. They go down an incline lined with abandoned equipment. Unbuilt scaffodling leans against the walls, wooden boards long succumbed to rot, only standing because nothing has come to disturb them in decades. Rusted signage decorates the paths. Some sit on the ground while others somehow manage to cling to the walls for dear life, affixed with a single, stubborn nail. 

The captain squints, trying to make out one of the shanty signs.

“CAUTION: WET” - no shit, he thinks. He can hear dripping noises echo up from beyond. They approach what appears to be the end of the top level.

“Hey, over here,” Hongjoong waves people over. Yeosang, Wooyoung and San venture forth, apparently the braver among them. Mingi stays back, clinging to Yunho while Jongho keeps ahold of the prisoner.

To the immediate left of what appears to be a dead end is what looks like a drop off. Dim goes to pitch as the edge of the path abruptly cuts off into nothingness. Thankfully it’s midday, and tons of light floods in through the entrance. One misstep could easily send a person falling who knows how far.

“How far down do you think that goes?” Hongjoong asks, his voice echoing loudly.

Wooyoung takes one of the flashlights he’d brought down the shaft. Joong is glad to see the beam can reach the bottom, but he’s not necessarily relieved to see the distance. Framing the drop is a structure of worn metal caging. 

“You think this was an old lift?” Joong asks, observing rusted platform sits at the bottom of the dropoff.

“Looks like it,” Wooyoung responds. “Not too far a climb, though. Nine, maybe ten meters.”

Yeosang steps forward and looks down, “It’s nine and a tenth meters to be precise- well, give or take a few extra decimal points.”

“That’s what I said,” Woo replies.

Hongjoong chuckles, “So… How are we getting down here? I think I’d rather throw myself down than attempt the lift…”

“I could probably land safely,” Yeosang says, “But I’m not sure I’d wanna be down there alone… our piece is down there, though. According to our coordinates.”

“Can you send down a drone?” The captain asks.

Yeosang pouts, “My baby?”

“Pretty please?” Hongjoong asks, clasping his hands together.

Yeo shakes his head dejectedly, “I- I’m sorry I hadn’t even thought of it.” He frowns, “I’m sorry. They don’t really have any sort of recepticle… They just project light waves and can capture footage, but my little sun barrier guys don’t have the means to carry anything. It’s just smooth metal and lenses…”

“Wh- Don’t apologize, that’s okay!” Hongjoong urges the other. He feels a twinge of guilt for making the other feel bad. “Right, right. Okay, lemme, just… Let’s think…” Hongjoong bites down on his lip as he thinks. What to do, what to do?

“Ah-ha,” Wooyoung chirps happily. He moves his flashlight to the immediate left of the opening, “See here?”

“What am I looking at?” Hongjoong asks, narrowing his eyes. All he sees is a mess of rocks and worn metal.

“A ladder,” Wooyoung says, panning the light beam down.

The captain winces, “That’s a ladder?” He asks dubiously.

“Yeah. Most of these places have something like this. A contingency if the lift doesn’t work.”

“What if one of the bars comes undone? Can it bear weight anymore?” Joong asks, narrowing his eyes at the metal embedded in stone.

“I mean, it doesn’t look too rusty,” Wooyoung says. “Should be fine.”

“So the question is, who’s the unlucky bastard that’s gonna test that theory?” Hongjoong mutters. 

“Oh…” Wooyoung coughs. “Well, I found it, so, um- I feel like it shouldn’t have to be me-”

“Wh- Are you serious?!”

“Ff- I’m kidding! I’ll go down if you really, really want me to, y’know. Unless somebody else does.”

“I can do it,” Yeosang says. “I mean, my body is half mechanical, so if anything breaks drastically I should be able to repair it…”

“Wait!” Hongjoong says. A wide grin stretches across his lips as a sinister idea pops into his head. He turns on his heel, smile ear to ear. “I think I know the perfect person to test the fortitude of that ladder.”

Initially, the crew appears confused. One by one, realization dawns on them, and their eyes move to the person of interest. Unsurprisingly, the unwitting blond is the last one in on the plot. His eyes go wide, and he gasps.

“What are you-”

“Jongho, bring him here please,” Hongjoong lilts. Who knew climbing into the depths of mines could be so fun?

Jongho shrugs and follows the captain’s order. He drags the reluctant prettyboy forward and shoves him toward the captain. Whether by intention or not, the push is so forceful that the PO damn near falls down the hole himself. Yeosang snatches the man by the arm, dragging him back to standing.

Wooyoung steps aside, shining his flashlight at the ladder and gesturing toward it.

“Well?” Hongjoong raises his brows at the other. “Down you go.”

The PO’s face squashes into a nasty scowl, the sight of which is so satisfying to Hongjoong it damn near makes him giddy. He doesn’t say anything, though. Instead, he lifts his cuffed hands. Joong presses a button on the cuffs, undoing the electromagnetism that keeps them bound tight together. By default, they don’t come completely undone. Instead, a long photon chain appears between them, its blue glow lighting the officer’s visage from below eerily.

“That should be enough slack,” Hongjoong says. The blond huffs. He looks around for a moment, perhaps assessing his chances at escape. Too bad for him, the only way away is down. Even if he tried to wiggle away, the light of his photon chain would be a dead giveaway.

“Don’t worry,” Yeosang tells the other in a hushed voice. “I’m excellent at first aid should anything happen.” Joong wants to chastise the other for being kind, but he supposes it’s ultimately an admirable trait. Damn him for being so good, Hongjoong thinks.

Without further ado, PO Park begins his descent. Hongjoong watches carefully as the man mounts the ladder. His pace is slow and methodical. Every so often an ugly creaking or groaning echoes up the shaft, making Hongjoong’s heart stop. He waits for the ladder to give way under the officer’s weight or for the man to slip and fall to his death.

He doesn’t, though. After a long, tense, silent ten minutes, he reaches the bottom, cuffs glowing like a guidelight at the base. Hongjoong lets out a breath he wasn’t aware of holding.

“Well, down we go,” Hongjoong says to the crew.

“D-Do we all have to go down?” Mingi squeaks out. “Can I just stay and keep watch?”

“Wanna keep watch in the dark all by yourself?” Hongjoong posits. The Venusian lets out a soft, agonized groan before conceding.

They each carefully descend the ladder one by one, not wanting to put too much weight on the thing. Mingi is the last to come down, and he’s shaking so hard by the last few pegs that Yunho has to take him down in his arms. Jongho resumes his hold on the prisoner while Hongjoong does a headcount to assure everyone else is present and accounted for.

Eight heads.

Good, he thinks. As there should be.

“Okay. To the beacon,” Hongjoong says, waving everyone forward. He takes the lead, comm in his hand.

A shiver runs down the captain’s spine as he follows one of many paths into the depths. It’s even colder on the lower level. Every sound gets amplified by the cavernous mine, and though multiple lights illuminate their way, occasionally the space opens up so that not even Yeosang can make out what’s in the distance.

“I hate this,” Mingi whines. They’re walking single file through a particularly narrow passageway, and though Hongjoong can’t see it, he imagines the other is clinging tightly to Yunho.

“We’re almost there,” Hongjoong says, trying to sound quelling. Truthfully, he’s getting freaked out, too. Though the sound of drips and even running water echoes across the mines, the quiet still feels oppressive. Crags and stalagmites jut out in every which way, painting abstract monsters on the walls with their shadows. It’s not just the visual that unsettles Joong, either, though.

It’s a feeling.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he can’t stop shivering. He imagines this is what it’s like when people describe walking through a cold spot. Except, the entire mine is a cold spot.

“What did they mine here again?” Wooyoung asks, his voice bouncing ceaselessly down the narrow pass until it reverberates into nothing. 

“Lentumite and coal,” Hongjoong replies. He’s happy to converse if it means staving off the undeniable sensation of dread pressing down on him.

“I guess that’s reason for bandits to try and raid it,” Woo mutters.

“He said the reserves were pretty low, though,” Jongho comments.

“I’m not surprised this place shut down,” Yunho responds. “I’m not usually scared off by stuff, but this…”

“We’re just a few meters away,” Hongjoong assures them.

“Aaaaah!” A shrill scream trills from behind Hongjoong.

“Shit!” “Fff-!” “Aaaaaaaaah!” Another fit of screams follow the initial one, and the captain damn near jumps out of his skin. A litany of curses and the sound of feet slipping against wet rock rips through the passageway, leaving a resounding tone of panic in the aftermath.

_ “Brbrhhrrbbbr…” _ A low rumbling runs through the surrounding passage seconds later, as if in response to the commotion, and Hongjoong’s knees shake. He realizes that it’s not out of fear. The ground itself is shaking. Panicked gasps and cries ring through the tunnel. The captain grits his teeth, riding out the spike of nerves so at least one of them can be calm.

When it subsides, Hongjoong struggles to catch his breath.

“What the fuck was that?!” Hongjoong demands in a hushed tone. 

“S-Sorry,” San murmurs sheepishly. “I thought something touched my leg.”

“You sure it wasn’t Wooyoung?” Jongho snarks. The joke gives the crew a much needed laugh as they make the last leg of their trip into the old mine.

“We’re like, right on top of it. It should be here somewhere,” Hongjoong says. “Anyone see anything?”

The crew fans out as much as people can fan out in a narrow cavern. Fingers trace walls and graze the ground. Unsurprisingly, it’s Yeosang who finds the piece.

“Here,” The cyborg says softly. His mechanical hand grazes the wall to his left side. “I’m getting a reading. Unknown material.” The crew rushes to his side to get a better look. Everyone shines their light on the spot, and Jongho even lifts the prisoner’s wrists to use his photon chain as an aid.

At first, they see nothing. Just craggly, carved out rock. However, among the layers of artificially sedimentated rock something glimmers. Hongjoong reaches forward, pulling the sleeve of his jacket over his hand and wiping roughly. He gets at the rock little by little, gradually removing layers of grime and unsettled rock. From the wall juts out a shard that appears distinctly different. Worn brass juts out from the otherwise unremarkable stone.

“How did you get here?” Hongjoong asks the piece. Clearly, it won’t answer, but he can’t help his wonder. 

“How are we getting it out of here?” Yunho asks.

“I got it,” Jongho says. “If someone can just hold onto him-”

“I’m not going to try and run away now,” The petty officer growls. “I don’t have a death wish.”   
  


“You wouldn’t get very far even if you tried,” Hongjoong responds, just in case he needs to quell any errant fantasies of running off. He notices the blond turn to say something in the bluish light. He doesn’t, though, instead pressing his pretty lips shut (as he should). 

Jongho waves everyone away so he can have a bit of space. When the crew is as safe a distance as he can be, the youngest clutches his fist tightly. Winding up, he slams his fist straight into the rock.

_ “Craaack!” _

A loud cracking sound fills the place, resonating down the tunnel. For a second, Hongjoong flinches, worried that the sound had been Jongho’s bones. Much to his relief, it isn’t. The youngest draws his hand back, shaking it out a bit. Unfortunately, the side of the wall isn’t in near as good a position. A crater of crumbled rock surrounds the Compass piece. Jongho gingerly brushes away pulverized sediment until he’s able to get a firm grip on the little brassy node. He yanks it out without a hitch, clasping it tightly in his hand.

“Put that in a sealed pocket if you can,” Yeosang advises. “Don’t want it flying away.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I am not coming back here,” Jongho says with a smile.

“Oh- Can we go now? Can we please,  _ please  _ go now?!” Mingi begs.

“Yeah, c’mon. Yunho, get Blondie,” Hongjoong orders as they turn around toward the tunnel they came through.

“Yes captai…” He trails off. Seconds later, another rumble rolls through the caverns.

_ “Brbrbrbrbbrbrbrrbbbbrrr…” _ The mines churn, the vibrations running through the rock into Hongjoong’s bones.

“Yeah, we need to get out, stat,” Hongjoong says with more urgency. The crew hightails it out of there, leaving as quickly as they can while maintaining a semblance of safety and not slipping to their death.

* * *

“Land!” Mingi shouts, flopping onto the ground and kissing the dust. It often shocks Hongjoong that the man was raised as royalty. 

Hongjoong can’t lie, he’s relieved as hell, too. The aura of the place is strangely sinister and oppressive. Even though it’s hotter than hell, Joong is ecstatic to be back on the surface. The sun’s dipped a bit lower, now beginning its descent beneath the edge of the horizon. He takes a deep breath of fresh air and stretches out languidly, a smile spreading across his lips. His heart feels light with relief and elation. For once, they had a nice, easy mission.

“Captain, I think we’ve got company,” Yunho calls to him.

Hongjoong drops his arms and squints. Blurs in the distance bound toward them. They’re tall, strangely formed silhouettes, smeared by the heat radiating off of the ground. Hongjoong realizes why they’re so strange: they're riding horses. Joong bites down on his lip nervously.

Tension coils in the captain’s gut as the mounted strangers come closer and closer.

“What if those are the bandits?” Mingi asks worriedly, peeling himself off the ground.

“Only two of them, though?” Yeosang responds, tone dubious.

Joong holds a hand above his eyes for shade, “I’ll do the talking.” He steps forward, and the mysterious strangers begin to slow their pace. Soon, their silhouettes solidify into identifiable shapes. Like Yeosang said, there’s two mounted riders on horses.

As they approach, Hongjoong’s tension slackens. The people arriving at the mine’s edge are familiar faces - the sheriff and the mayor. Hongjoong drops his hand to give the two a genial wave.

“Hey!” Hongjoong calls out as they slow their horses into a walk.

“Hey, fellas!” The mayor calls out. The man has got to have a lot of spare time. Why else would he be taking guests and riding out to the mines in his spare time? Joong briefly entertains the idea that he and the sheriff could be illicit lovers or something. But the two look related, and he quickly tosses the thought aside, disgusted at the visual it gives him.

“What brings you guys all the way out here?” Hongjoong asks. He waves his crew over.

“Just wanted to check on you fellas,” The mayor said. “The mines can be dangerous, and it’s getting pretty late. May not look like it now, but sun’s gonna set pretty soon. Temperatures can go subzero out here during nighttime.”

“Oh, wow,” Hongjoong gawks. “Well, thank you kindly. We’re actually wrapping up here, so no need to worry about us. We’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“What? Leaving already?” The mayor gasps. “But you just got here!”

“I know, I know,” Hongjoong laughs sheepishly. “You know how it is. Ain’t no rest for the wicked - as the proverb says.”

“You tellin’ me you guys are wicked?” The mayor asks facetiously.

“Wh- Us? No! No, god- no not- not us. We’re geologists. Not criminals?” The captain chokes out a laugh.

“Hey,” The sheriff cuts in. “What’s that fella’s story?” He nods behind Hongjoong.

Joong follows the direction of the man’s gaze to find Seonghwa brooding beside Yunho.

“What’ve they got you cuffed for?” The sheriff narrows his eyes suspiciously.

Seonghwa answers flatly, “I’m a Coalition officer and I’ve been captured and imprisoned by these fugitives for weeks.”

The sheriff and mayor raise their brows with surprise, gazes delving into the captain expectantly.

Hongjoong lets out a loud, boisterous laugh, stepping back to Seonghwa. He slings an arm over the blond’s shoulder, digging his fingertips in. He doesn’t know if it hurts but, god, he hopes it does.

Face lit up in the most luminous smile he can muster, Hongjoong laughs, “Oh, this one? We call him prettyboy. He’s a real comedian. No, he’s just got severe skin condition. We cuff him so he doesn’t scratch his face off.”

The two older gentleman exchange contemplative looks for a second. Hongjoong stops breathing. He can feel a drop of sweat run down his spine.

“My baby girl gets rashes real bad, we put mittens on her when she sleeps,” The sheriff comments. “Never thought of cuffs, though!” He laughs. Hongjoong laughs with him, resting his head on the petty officer’s shoulder in a charade of camaraderie.

“Well it’s definitely working!” The mayor adds with a smile. “Prettyboy’s certainly an apt nickname.”

Seonghwa lets out a low growl but says nothing more. Joong keens at the other’s failed attempt. Today really is a good day.

“Please, though,” Jonessen says, “I insist you all just stay the night - just one night. Tomorrow’s sabbath which means tonight’s a firenight.”

“A- A what? I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of that before,” Hongjoong says. He takes his head off of Seonghwa but maintains the tight hold.

“Just a tradition we do here in Tass. We make a big bonfire, there’s music and we roast hog, throw some root vegetables on there.”

Hongjoong’s mouth waters at the prospect. Apparently, the hunger is written on his face because Jonessen takes it as an opportunity to drive the stake further.

“You boys travel a lot, isn’t it nice to breathe some atmospheric air every once in awhile?”

The captain neglects to comment on the fact that their air has a severe dust problem. His mind is still on the pork. Still, they really should just be on their way.

“I think staying would be  _ lovely _ ,” Someone lavishes insistently.

Hongjoong’s heart drops when he realizes who it is. He schools his face into a polite, happy expression. It takes every ounce of muscle and restraint he possesses to not flash the bastard blond a dirty look.

“Don’t you?” Prettyboy says, plastering on a smile faker than his too-blue irises. “ _ Captain _ ?”

“Aw come on, don’t be shy,” The mayor says, waving in the direction of town. “I will not take no for an answer. I can show you to the finest lodgings. Our innkeeper- Maisie’s her name - she’s gonna be thrilled. Bakes a hell of a sourdough.”

“I- I wouldn’t want to impose or anything.”

“I insist!” Jonessen tells him.

“He insists,  _ captain _ ,” Seonghwa pantomimes. It’s sickening, his tone a dagger twisting in Hongjoong’s guts. “You wouldn’t want to be rude, would you?”

Hongjoong searches his crewmates for support, but they all return with nothing but lost looking expressions and shrugs. Figures. His crew has many things, but tact isn’t always one of them. Even the diplomatic Mingi seems at a loss as to how to wiggle their way out of the situation.

“What’re you so anxious to get outta town for, huh? Don’t tell me you’re a bunch of criminals after all,” The mayor poses the question like a joke, but it’s underlined by something that makes Hongjoong shiver.

“Well, if you’re gonna twist my arm,” The captain responds, “I guess we’re gonna have to see what these Tass firenights are about.”

“Thatta boy!” Jonessen beams. “Follow us, we’ll get you set at Maisie’s. Lodging’s on me, of course, given that I invited you all.”

“Alright, Mayor Jonessen,” Hongjoong replies, “Lead the way.”

  
The mayor and sheriff turn their horses and start heading back to town. ATEEZ’s crew follows behind, and Hongjoong - now personal escort of their poor, excemic prettyboy - lags behind further.

The captain leans in close, whispering so only the petty officer could hear, “Listen,” He says, keeping a smile on his face just in case anyone fancies a peek. “If you so much as  _ look  _ at a comm PC too much, if I catch you talking to any of the locals about anything more than the damn weather - I’ll have San turn you into a mindslave. You’ll serve as my fucking  _ footstool  _ until I get bored of you and throw you out the airlock where your blood will boil and you will die a terrible, lonely death in the vacuum of space. As your last dying breaths are  _ wrested  _ from your lungs, I will be sitting in my captain’s quarters with a nice glass of wine, watching and laughing. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” The pretty boy murmurs.

“Good,” Hongjoong growls, satisfied that he’s made his point.

* * *

Roaring flames dance in the dark clearing, licking up the sides of their stony confines and stretching toward the sky. A halo of warm firelight surrounds the wide pit. It paints the people surrounding it in tones of amber and orange. The light dances, spitting up embers and ash. Burning specks get sent high into the sky until they disappear as if joining the stars they so closely resemble.

The clearing is cute and quaint, just east of the main strip, surrounded by torches.

A small band of locals happily strum out a jaunty folk tune on worn string instruments. Men crowd around makeshift tables of industrial spools, knocking back pewter steins of ale and conversing animatedly. Children zip between the legs of their parents, uncles, and neighbors, waving around sticks, rocks, and whatever else they’d foraged to serve as props for their make believe. There aren’t many seating options. Mismatched chairs pulled from the homes of people nearby are reserved for the elderly.

Near the string band, a small crowd of younger people dance. They move in an orderly formation of parallel lines, stepping forward and twirling around one another to the beat. Hongjoong had never seen anything like it. The dancing he’s used to seeing is less dancing and more gyrating in too-close proximity to others in a crowded club. Is knowing the steps a requirement for people of the settlement? They all move so effortlessly, giggling without giving their movement a second thought.

The mayor wasn’t wrong regarding the temperature drop. The people had been so kind as to donate him a blanket which rests on his shoulders like a mantle as he sits on a log by the fire. From melting beneath the sun to shivering at night, Hongjoong happily curls his fingers around the steaming bowl of stew he’d been offered. Though the portion appeared modest at first, not half way through the bowl Hongjoong feels his stomach strain as he takes another bite. Tender meat - pig, if he recalls - pulls apart with ease with just the prodding of his spoon. It melts in his mouth, beautifully harmonizing with a mixture of hearty root vegetables and aromatic herbs. The delicious, savory stew runs down his throat and sits happily in his belly, warming him from the inside out. Though it doesn’t taste like his home, per se, something about the stew is undeniably homey to Hongjoong. It’s comforting, a substantial meal cooked from the heart by and for the people of Tass.

The captain never really thought of himself as much of a community type. In the high rises of his home Earth, people mostly kept to themselves. Sure, the kids from the neighborhood would play together and, yes, occasionally a cluster of adults would gather on a stoop or around a card table for mahjong. But it’s not quite the same as this. It seems like everybody knows everybody, and they’re all happy to see each other. Where he came from, everyone always appeared weighed down, burdened by problems, work, jobs, parents, patrols. Here, things are so pared back and simple; they dance as if they don’t have a care in the world.

Hongjoong scans the clearing to do a head count on his crew. Yunho, a few logs over, gobbles down his third bowl of stew. His tail wags happily, catching the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Mingi simply sits next to the other and watches fondly, as if Yunho eating is the most captivating sight in the world. God, Hongjoong muses, they are disgusting.

San sits on a stump nearby, nodding off as he watches the fire. The siren’s been dragging his feet all day. Joong suspects it’s something to do with the arid climate. A person so used to living under water probably doesn’t take well to such dry air. Not to mention the sunlight. Wooyoung and Jongho aren’t eating. Hongjoong’s brows furrow as he searches the clearing for the two. His shoulders sag with relief upon spotting them in the line of dancers. The two picked it up pretty fast. They move in step with the locals, not missing a beat. 

On the ground, further back from the fire, the cyborg sits with the prisoner. The light of the fire barely reaches them with how removed they are from the others. Yeosang had graciously volunteered to be on watch duty. The two don’t appear to be conversing, thankfully. Petty Officer Prettyboy is manipulative, and Hongjoong wouldn’t want him to say anything that could get into Yeosang’s head.The cyborg peacefully watches the fire as the PO leans back on his hands, gaze fixed up and away.

He’s got a faraway look in his eyes.

What is he thinking about?

Is his mind on the Compass and the things he’d seen earlier that day? Or is he plotting his revenge, calculating escape routes in case ATEEZ’s captain or crew slip up? What’s going through his mind as he stares up at the heavens - at the glowing gasses that inspire men to ponder the infinitesmal nature of the universe in which they exist? Would he dare contemplate all the different possibilities they can represent? Or is he singleminded, fixed on a well trodden path that he knows?

His reaction after seeing the Compass was confusing, to say the least. His expressions had been murky, indiscernible. He didn’t appear entirely convinced; however, after the second strange transmission, Hongjoong heard no more of the man’s prior skepticism.

After concluding his preoccupation with their trip in the mines, Hongjoong’s mind kept going back to it. The Compass is enigmatic and temperamental. Joong can’t help but wonder if there is a sentience to it - be it AI or something more arcane. The hardware itself can be finnicky, too. He can never predict how the thing will react or what will happen when it does fancy foraying into functionality. Last time someone strange touched it, it discharged such a great shock that it sent the man flying. In truth, part of him hoped for a similar result with the Petty Officer. Hongjoong expected nothing at all, though. The revelation of not one but two mysterious fragments of footage came as a massive shock. It makes Hongjoong reconsider the device’s nature. Maybe the peculiar device is nothing but a collection of mechanical bits and bobs. Maybe it malfunctioned.

Whatever happened, both the captain and the prisoner had been present for it. Surely, it must have made some impact on the other. Why else would he have appeared so dazed after witnessing the strange projections?

Perhaps that is what’s drawn his clear blue eyes to the sky.

Further contemplating the other’s thoughts, Hongjoong thinks it more likely than him plotting. His face is too placant to be that of someone scheming. He almost doesn’t look like himself. The soft, warm hues of the firelight help, too. Hongjoong can’t quite make out the usually stark lines of the man’s face. Dimness diffuses him, making him appear almost soft. Almost human.

Almost like Park Seonghwa instead of Petty Officer Park.

Suddenly, the blue eyes depart the starry sky. They shift, meeting Hongjoong’s. The captain’s gaze widens, and his pupils flee the other’s with haste. Embarrassment swells in his chest, heat rising to his cheeks that isn’t due to the warmth of the fire. Joong prays the other didn’t think he was staring. Thinking on it further, Hongjoong wonders - why the hell did the blond look at him?

Part of Joong wants to know if the other is still looking.  _ Is  _ there something  _ to  _ look at? Perhaps the meeting of their eyes had been something errant. Hongjoong isn’t sure, though. He wonders if the pressure pressing against him is from the other’s gaze or self imposed by his own paranoia.

Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, thoughts.

They swim around in the captain’s head restlessly. Sometimes, he thinks he could get lost in them forever. Questions plague him. Questions about his crew, about his life, about the Compass and the logs, about the cyborg and the blond sitting next to him. About what the future has in store.

But as time goes on, the early risers of Tass begin falling off. Soon, the music dies as does the laughter and conversation. One by one, ATEEZ’s crew returns to the captain’s side. San scoots closer, eventually nodding off on the captain’s shoulder. Yunho finishes his fill and Mingi tires, yawns replacing words. Jongho returns wearing a wreath of desert flowers gifted to him by one of the local girls, and Wooyoung is last, having disappeared for awhile and returned looking toussled. 

Though Hongjoong had wanted nothing more than to leave the planet quickly, he’s glad they stayed. The people of Tass are kind, and the mayor was right. It is nice breathing atmospheric air every once in a while.

Tired, the crew stumbles back to their rooms at Maisie’s Inn. Hongjoong, not eager to have a repeat of his time on BH, volunteers to room with the prisoner. He and Yeosang assure the blond’s binds are substantial, using some extra sheets to keep his legs tied and looping the photon chain of his cuffs around an enclosed bed post. Surprisingly, the blond doesn’t put up any sort of protest. Doesn’t even say a word. Even evil tires, apparently.

The man’s eyes close just seconds after he hits the bed, and as far as Joong can tell, they don’t open after that. Hongjoong can’t help but feel jittery in the other’s presence. But even that anxiety can’t keep his exhaustion at bay for long. He watches the prisoner’s back until fatigue takes over, snuffing out his last bout of consciousness.

* * *

_ “Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” _

Blaring alarms shock Hongjoong awake. Panic strikes him like lightning, piercing his chest and shooting through his veins to every part of his body. The captain jolts up, choking on a gasp. 

_ “Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Screeeeeeeeeeee! Screeeeeeeeeeeee!” _

The siren sounds familiar. Too familiar. It’s Coalition, undeniable. Same tone and timbre as the jail he’d busted his ass to escape. He looks around frantically, vision blurred and hazy. He tries to speak, but yet again the words are caught, stillborn in his mouth. 

_ “Thud!” _

Something pounds against the door to his room loudly.

_ “Thud!!” _

It pounds again. Hongjoong tries to move, but his limbs refuse to cooperate, still asleep, apparently. His eyes go wide as pure, unadulterated terror suffocates him from the inside out. It spreads, pressing against his lungs and squeezing his throat. 

_ “Thud- Bam!!” _

The weak wooden door flies into the room, slamming loudly as it skids across the floor. Hongjoong’s chest heaves with his labored attempts at taking breath. Though he sucks in as much air as he can, it never feels like enough. His heartrate hastens, and he begins to feel the edges of his vision swim.

Loud yells boom as a sea of black floods the room.

“There he is!” “Get him!” “On the bed!” “Apprehend him!” “Take him in!” “Kill him!” “Get him!” “Get him!” “Bag him!” “There he is!”

Hongjoong is powerless, bound to his bed by his uncooperative body. Tears stream down his cheeks. It’s pathetic, the only reaction his body can properly muster. The more he tries to speak the more his chest burns, the dagger of panic driving deeper into his heart and lungs.

Lasers point in his direction, barrels glowing at the ready.

“Get him!” “Get him!” “On the bed!” “He’s through!” “We got him!” “Time to turn him in.” “On the bed!” “Get him-” The voices roll into a cacophonic chorus as if spoken not by many but by one, a monster of sorts.

“On the bed!” “Hold your fire!” “Wait for the call.” “We’ve secured him.” “To prison with you!” “Get him!”

They fill the room to the brim, covering it wall to wall, floor to ceiling like a roach infestation. The din is deafening, making Hongjoong’s ears ring and his head ache as if knocked by something

“Get him!” “Hold your fire.” “Put him away.” “He’s here.” “We finally found him!” “After him!” “Get him!” “Get him.” “Get him-”

“Enough!” One voice rings through them all, loud and clear, and in the wake of the order comes abrupt silence.

Hongjoong could hear a pin drop.

All he can do is watch. His body, still asleep, still refusing to follow his orders, to move, remains limp on the bed. 

In the sea of black someone pronounces themself. They sashay, somehow distinct despite the utter sameness. Hongjoong quickly realizes why, because among the ocean of shapeless, faceless blackcoats, stands one, tall and proud, head held high, front and center.

The swoop of his pristine, platinum blond hair is unmistakeable, nearly blinding against the backdrop of black, and his eyes gleam a menacing, icy blue. Hongjoong’s eyes widen even further. The sight of the man sucks the breath out of his lungs, leaving them withered desperate. He feels as if he’s drowning again.

A wide, manic stretches across the man’s rouge lips near splitting his face in half, and he points a gun directly at Hongjoong’s throat. Hongjoong’s entire body trembles as the man mounts him, climbing atop him and straddling. Though he appears to be average, the weight pressing down on the captain feels like ten times that of the man above. Hongjoong’s fairly certain he’s choking. He begins to feel lightheaded. 

“Open up,” The blond snarls. With a wide smirk, he plunges the barrel of his gun between the captain’s lip, driving cold metal into the back of his throat. Hongjoong hears the telltale click of a hammer being pulled back. The gun’s ready.

“Time to finish what I started,” The blond says, leaning down and further driving the barrel into the back of Hongjoong’s throat. Hongjoong gags, the taste of blood filling his mouth as jagged metal scratches and prods his esophagus. The tears pouring out of his eyes feel like lava running down the side of his face. Never had he known such helplessness. The pain resonating across his body makes him almost want to beg for the other to pull the trigger.

The blond licks his lips before leaning in and delivering his final words to the captain. Finger poised on the trigger, he begins squeezing and whispers:

“Bang.”

Hongjoong yelps as he bursts up, limbs thrasing. His heart hammers against his chest, and the world around him blurs. Something binds him, fueling his panic further. He shivers, skin damp with a cold, uncomfortable sweat.

The captain’s limbs tangle with his sheets, and his flurry of panicked flailing nearly sends him flying off the bed. Hongjoong throws the linens off until the bed is stripped down to the flat sheet. His head whips around frantically in search of the blackcoats, of the gun, of the man who’d shoved a gun down his throat and shot him. 

Heart palpitating and lungs burning, he searches frantically. With his vision blurry, it’s difficult for him to get his bearings. Where is he? A prison? A jail cell? Where is his crew? What’s become of the Compass? Nerves jitter and jumble in his gut like static noise, dancing restlessly and refusing to settle. 

He notices a set of bright blue eyes digging into his side from the other bed. The captain jumps upon realizing the presence of another. He flinches away at first, reflexively recoiling in anticipation of some sort of demonstration of force. Then, he notices the other’s binds.

  
Hongjoong takes pause at that. 

Why is the petty officer tied up and staring at him?

He’s tied up because he’s ATEEZ’s prisoner, Hongjoong remembers.

Gradually, realization returns to the captain.

  
PO Prettyboy can’t hurt him because he’s tied up. All the man can do is give the captain his stupid, wide-eyed stare. But he can’t harm him. And there are no blackcoats in the room at all. He’s in no prison. He’s at Maisie’s Inn after a successful excavation mission.

Bit by bit, the captain’s nerves taper off. His breathing begins to stabilize and the beating of his heart regulates. Though he still feels remnants of sickness toiling in his stomach, his fight or flight response is no longer sending his body messages that he’s going to die. That’s a plus.

Hongjoong reaches over the side of the bed and picks his sheets up. The sweat on his skin is starting to cool, making goosebumps prick up due to the unpleasant cold sensation. He can feel the other watching him. The PO probably thinks he’s insane or possibly tweaking - not that he cares. Still, it must’ve been a hell of a sight to see. He probably made some noises, too. That would explain why the other is wide awake.

No longer able to take the other staring him down, Hongjoong coughs out, “Bad dream.”

“Mm,” The other grunts with a nod. Without another word (but with considerable effort) he flops onto his other side and goes silent. Hongjoong chooses to believe that the other goes right to sleep. He’s not sure he can bear the idea of the blond watching him or listening to him.

Though he attempts to do the same, haphazardly throwing his sheets back onto the bed, it proves difficult. Even after the initial panic is over, he can’t quite muster the courage to close his eyes again.

Instead, he watches the other. Every time the petty officer flinches or babbles, Hongjoong’s heart seizes. He clutches his sheets, unable to tear his eyes away.

Eventually, the nerves diminish. Hongjoong feels exhausted, twenty times moreso than when he’d gone to sleep in the first place. The steady rise and fall of the other’s chest and the soft rhythm of his breath lulls the captain into another dreamless sleep.

* * *

Hongjoong nearly faceplants into the last remaining morsels of his griddlecake. His sleep had been lackluster, to say the least. He’s ready to get the hell into his ship and, more importantly, into his own bed. As kind as the people of Tass are, he’s already sick of the place. It’s hot, and he’s pretty sure he’s wearing a layer of dust and grime. Even more annoying is the fact that they’ve had to drag Prettyboy along the entire time.

“Thank you for all of your kindness,” Hongjoong sleepily mumbles to their server. Joong was relieved to learn he didn’t have to travel far in the heat first thing in the morning. Maisie’s Inn serves breakfast to guests before kindly ushering them out to do whatever it is people do for a day in Tass. It’s modest, more like someone’s living-slash-dining room than a restaurant, but it’s homey. Modest describes all of Tass, in truth. The captain imagines most guests are traders passing through and don’t stay long, either.

“It’s our pleasure,” The server replies in a tone far too chipper for such an early people. Goddamn agriculture folks, rising with the sun and shit. 

“Alright,” Hongjoong addresses the table (well, two tables that’d been put together). “Is everyone done?”

Most of them are, save for Yunho who’s still got a mouthful of eggs. There are a few grumbles of affirmation, but most of the crew are too full or too tired to genuinely answer. The petty officer remains mute. Nary a sound has left those lips save for a grunt or hum here or there.

“I can’t wait to get this damn thing in the Compass,” Jongho comments, patting an enclosed pocket inside his old school jacket.

“No kidding,” Yeosang responds eagerly. 

“You think it’ll light more of the map?” Hongjoong asks.

“Wouldn’t you think?” Yunho posits.

Joong shrugs, “The thing’s unpredictible, who knows what it’ll do.” He briefly recalls the weird episode from the day before.

“No way of knowing without doing it,” Yeosang replies. “So?”

“Yeah,” The captain says. “Let’s go. Yeo if you can take our frien-”

_ “-Thud!!”  _

A sudden sound cuts the captain off. Its source was the entrance, and all eyes shoot to the Inn’s front door which had been shoved open roughly. In run a frantic woman accompanied by two small children. The kids - one boy and one girl - clutch at her skirt, faces puffy and red, tear streaked.

_ “Slaam!!” _

She slams the door shut behind her, quickly sliding the rudimentary locks in place. They click and clack, a few even thudding loudly indicating heavy bolts.

“Uh-” The captain grunts. Nervousness delves a pit in his stomach. “What’s going on?”

“Draw the curtains!” The woman demands without explanation. The solitary inn worker who’d been serving them obliges without a word, drawing the curtains. “And the lights, the lights, too!” They then flick the switch, and the light goes dim.

“Uh… What the hell is going on here?” Hongjoong asks, swallowing nervously.

“Get down!” The woman whispers loudly. She ushers her children behind a nearby sofa, holding her hands to her lips to shush them. ATEEZ’s crew exchanges confused expressions. 

“Uh, why am I getting d-”

“Get  _ down  _ or else they’re gonna see you!” The woman urges. From the tense way she holds herself, it’s clear that she’s genuinely afraid of something. Of them.

“Wh-”

“The fellas in black are here!”

“The what-”

“The fellas in black- cutthroats! Bandits! So get down!” The woman whispers more fervently before cowering behind the sofa herself.

“The falls in… Oh, shit, the bandits?” Hongjoong mutters. Against the advisement of the locals, Hongjoong strides forward. Slowly, he draws back a curtain ever so slightly, just to get a peek. He squints, near blinded by the bright morning sunlight blaring beyond the sliver of window.

“Are you insane!?” The inn worker balks. “What if they see you?”

Jongho, similarly interested, steps forward, too. He leans over and squints. The remnants of the morning larks quickly flee indoors. In seconds, what’s left of the main strip’s bustling activity vanishes. Much like when they had arrived, Tass becomes a ghost town.

Hongjoong and Jongho watch patiently, eyes trained out the dirty window. It’s silent for a few minutes. Nothing but wood creaking in the wind and bated breath fills the Inn. Wind kicks up outside, scraping the siding of the houses with a loud whistle. With it a cloud of dust fogs the air.

“Is it them?” A tiny whisper asks - one of the children. “Is it the man with no face?”

“Sshh! Malakai!” The mother hushedly scolds her child. 

“The man with no face…?” Hongjoong whispers, looking out. What did the kid mean by that?

“I don’t see anyone,” Jongho says frankly. He’s met with a few piqued gasps from the locals. “What makes you think he’s here?”

“They were spotted standing on top of the mountain peak to the west,” The woman murmurs. “Bunch of tall fellas. Menacing types, wearing nothing but black. The tanner’s boy spotted them.”

“And they have no face!” The little child who’d spoken before chimes in.

“You hush now! That’s just a story they tell.”

“How long do you intend to stay holed up like this?” Hongjoong asks concernedly. He frowns as the wind picks up, dragging all of the dust on the surface along with it.

“Depends,” The inn worker responds to him. “Sheriff gives us the clear signal. Could be ten minutes, could be two hours.”

“Two hours?!” The captain scoffs. He does not want to stick around for another two fucking hours. He huffs indiginantly, glaring out the window. Two hours? Hongjoong would rather find the assholes and take them on himself. 

“How often does this happen?” Jongho asks.

The inn worker sighs, “It’s unpredictable. They’ve been around for a while now, on and off. Since shortly after the settlement, supposedly. Sometimes they hit the town once and disappear for a month. One time they came thrice in a week.”

“So you’re always on edge,” Hongjoong remarks, gaze fixed outside.

“Have you tried contacting Coalition authorities?” Unsurprisingly, the question comes from none other than PO Prettyboy. Hongjoong rolls his eyes. He doesn’t even dignify the other with a look. He hopes at least one of his crew will do him the favor of giving the blond a dirty look on their captain’s behest.

The inn worker replies, “Coalition’s come by once or twice, but of course our buddies in black like to stay scarce whenever they’re around. Make us look like real assholes because of it. They’ve taken statements and conducted some investigations, but there’s no trail of evidence. Not a damn thing.”

“I find that hard to believe,” The blond responds, tone pressed. “Surely they leave something. If not DNA then ballistics or laser burns from weaponry. Residual biosignatures- couldn’t they have set up cameras? Followed footprints?”

“Footprints would disappear too quickly. The weather conditions here constantly upset the surface dirt,” Yeosang calmly posits.

“I don’t know the details, just what I heard from the sheriff and other folks who managed to chat up the agents.”

“Well, whoever they’d assigned your case certainly isn’t doing a thorough job,” His righteousness, the shining beacon of Coalition standards comments. Hongjoong can just imagine how unbearable the PO would be if he was put on a case like that. The man has many, many flaws, but being a slacker isn’t one of them. Hongjoong once spotted him on the security feed folding a shirt. He folded it four times before it was, apparently, up to standard. The guy probably wouldn’t sleep a wink until he personally escorted the bandits to their cell.

“Hey, Hongjoong, do you see that?” Jongho asks.

The captain, who’d been zoning out, blinks confusedly. He follows the younger man’s finger. At first, he doesn’t notice anything. All he makes out is a cloud of dust. However, in the cloud, a few dark, smoky spots arise. The wind slows, and dust begins sinking back toward the ground. The splotches of black begin to take form. Shoulders, legs, fabric billowing in the wind.

The captain’s brows furrow as he squints out the window. Figures materialize bit by bit as the dust drifts down.Their edes sharpen - wide brimmed hats and long jackets. All of it blacker than night, somehow unmarred despite the dust and sun beating around them.

“That’s them,” Hongjoong whispers, awed. They’re an amalgamous clump of black clothes, covered from top to bottom. Not a hair sticks out, no sliver of skin save for that just beneath their hat. They stand in the middle of the road, and from the distance Hongjoong can barely make out their features. They’re pale. That’s about all he can discern of the “fellas in black” as they call them. They stand still, statue still. 

What are they doing?

The group of them - it’s a decently large group, though Joong can’t quite tell if it’s seven or eight - simply stand statue still. Is their intention to intimidate? Or are they assessing their surroundings, picking out potential targets? The wind dies down completely, and everything goes quiet, eerily so. The only sound Hongjoong hears is the faint creaking of wood. Sweltering fumes turn the distant air in to a blurry mirage, distorting their dark figures.

Suddenly, one of them turns their head. Hongjoong gasps, choking on his breath when his eyes lock with where he imagines the other’s eyes are. The figure is… Short. Front and center. All Hongjoong sees is darkness, two impossibly smoked out, dark eyes boring into his own. The gaze is beyond piercing. For some reason, the captain feels almost exposed, vulnerable. As if merely exchanging glances with the mysterious figure in black is equivalent to baring his soul. Hongjoong freezes, his reflexive panic response cementing him to his spot.

Though their gazes met for a mere moment, it felt like a lifetime to Hongjoong. Those seconds ticked on sluggishly as if slowed by the relentless beating of the sun. They drag their feet until Hongjoong feels lightheaded from being unable to breath. Spots begin swimming in his vision, and it’s then that the enigmatic bandit finally relinquishes their grasp on the captain. Nonchalantly, their head turns away.

The bandits step forward as one, in sync almost as if choreographed.

A violent gust of wind kicks up yet again. The high pitch noise of wind blowing through wood resonates through the entire inn as dust flies, almost entirely concealing those on the main road. 

Hongjoong lets out a breath he’d forgotten he’d been holding, “They passed us.” He mutters. Though the fellas in black are gone, goosebumps remain on Hongjoong’s skin, a residual symptom of their peculiar brand of intimidation. He’s not the only one relieved. Everyone lets out a collective sigh.

“How long until it’s clear, do you think?” Hongjoong asks the locals. The inn worker and mother of two exchange dubious looks and shrug. Hongjoong bites back an irritated groan. He sure as hell did not sign up for this. “Well, are they armed? What kind of weaponry do they have?” He tries to gauge the risk of just bolting to the ship. 

“They have superpowers!” One of the children says, the smaller of the two, a girl with long braids.

“Hush, Lilah!” The woman shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “There is no such thing as superpowers.”

“So what is it, then? I mean, are we talking guns here? Ballistic or photon-based?”

The mother shakes her head again. Joong furrows his brow, and the other members of the crew begin mirroring his confusion.

“Wh- How are they threatening you, then?” Hongjoong asks, trying not to sound too frustrated. “There has to be something.”

“We don’t know,” The inn worker elaborates with a frown.

“Wh- Well, do they leave bullet holes wherever they go?” The captain asks. “Do you hear a ‘bang bang’ or a zap?”

“I- We don’t know,” The inn worker frowns. “I mean- I’ve never had the misfortune of encountering them, but-”

“But what?”

“But, anyone who’s lived to tell the tale says they didn’t see anythin’. No guns or shooters. Didn’t hear anythin’. No marks left at the scene of the crime.”

Hongjoong’s face scrunches into an expression of pure bafflement. Nothing? Not a trace of a weapon discharge? He hopes for the sake of the village’s fortitude that the entire time they hadn’t been allowing themselves to be terrorized by blades or something stupid. Hongjoong flashes the cyborg an inquisitive glance.

Yeosang shrugs, “There’s a chance they’re using cloaking on their weapons. Though the lack of any traces in the aftermath sounds odd…”

“It’s the truth, I  _ swear _ ,” The worker says worriedly. “You wanna know more, the sheriff could tell you all about it. He’s been following them since they first showed up.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it-”

“Aahhhh…” A shrill sound comes through the window, muffled. Hongjoong’s attention immediately swerves to the main street again. He squints through the settling dust cloud. “-op… o- m… abe-” Someone’s voice just barely carries down the street.

“What the hell is that?” The captain inadvertantly mutters.

Yunho stands up, brows knit together, and joins his side by the window, “Someone’s in trouble.”

“You can hear them?” Hongjoong asks.

Yunho nods wordlessly, leaning close to the window to hear. His face darkens, falling into dejection as he hears more of what sound like jumbled nothingness to Hongjoong. 

“What are they yelling about?” The captain asks, his voice low.

The canis hesitates before answering, “They’re yelling… ‘my baby, they took my baby’...”

“Oh my god.” “ _ No _ .” “Shit.” A few curses and cries echo across the room. The mother of two hugs her children closer, and the inn worker cowers further into his hiding place.

An ill sensation gnaws at Hongjoong’s insides.

No, he tells himself.

No.

No, no, no.

No.

He keeps repeating the word over and over to himself.  _ No _ , it is not their responsibility to help these people.  _ No _ , it does not matter how kind they are.  _ No _ , they should  _ not  _ get involved.

No.

No, no, no, no.

The captain’s feet carry him, disobeying the rational part of his mind. He throws the door open and runs out. He hears footsteps at his tail but doesn’t pay them much mind. His own feet pick up into a run toward the far end of Tass’s main strip. He can barely tell due to the remant dust floating around, but he’s fairly certain the black splotches in the distance are bandits. He swears they are.

Hongjoong picks up into a sprint, his chest aching as he sucks in arid, dust-filled air. Amidst the cluster of black in the distance a small bundle of much plainer color crops up. It gets dragged alongside them. The child. A few brave souls dare step out of their doors and peek out windows to watch the unfortunate scene unfold. Scared and scandalized whispers erupt among the onlookers of Tass as ATEEZ’s crew passes by. 

In the distance, Joong makes out the familiar figure of the sheriff limping out of a building on the far left. The single spire on the otherwise modest building indicates it’s a place of worship. Not only did they steal a child, they plucked a child out of a damn church. Ire roils in Hongjoong’s guts, joining the heat and discomfort from exertion as he bounds toward the chapel. 

“Captain!” Yunho windedly joins Joong up front, taking long strides, “Captain, what’re we doing?”

“Gonna ask the sheriff what’s going on,” Hongjoong half wheezes. He notes that he probably ought to run more often, he’s beat.

“O-Okay. Wait- but why?”

“They helped us, we should help them,” Joong says. Yunho nods, accepting the captain’s assertion without protest. 

“Sheriff!” Hongjoong calls out to the older gentleman, hunched over with his hands on his knees in front of the chapel. “Sheriff!”

The sheriff stands upright, brows raised in surprise at the sight of the crew, “Wh- Fellas, you alright?” 

Joong huffs and puffs as he slows down, hunching over upon reaching the sheriff’s side. His crew isn’t far behind, arriving in conditions ranging from unbothered to near-dying (poor San certainly isn’t used to using his lungs for air, no doubt). From what Joong can tell, Jongho damn near carried the prisoner along the entire way, yet he appears the least effected of them all.

“We’re fine,” Hongjoong responds windedly. “But- What about you guys?”

The sheriff grimaces, letting out a ragged breath, “Might’ve pulled something trying to go after ‘em. The bastards took all the week’s offerings. Made off with Basil, too- chaplan’s little girl.”

“C-Can we get backup for you?” Hongjoong offers. “Where’s your deputy?”

The sheriff, smiles wryly, pain written on his face, “I am the backup.”

“What?”

“Sheriff, deputy, judge, jury, executioner,” The man stands up laboriously, face scrunching with exertion in doing so. “All of it. There is no backup.”

It pains Hongjoong to propose it, but he does so anyway, “What about Coalition backup?”

“Mayor Jonessen’s on it. Patrols might take awhile, though. They took Basil for hostage, asked for a hunk of cash… Might be easier just to scrape that together,” The sheriff frowns. “Who knows if the patrol’s gonna bother comin’ at all... No, I’m gonna sort this myself, I just- gimme a second to breathe-” He lets out an ugly cough.

“We’ll go after them,” Hongjoong says.

“Wha- Young man, are you serious?”

Joong glances at his crew over his shoulder. Half of them are still catching their breath. The other half exchange uncertain looks. Jongho shrugs, unconcerned, and Yeo nods. Wooyoung presses his lips together into a thin line while San sniffles and coughs. The petty officer’s gaze is fixed on the ground. He searches their faces for insistent protest or opposition. Though a couple appear unsure, nobody expresses any outright disapproval. Hongjoong makes the call as the captain:

They’re going to help.

It’s the least they can do to return the favor of the kindest people he’d met since taking off on ATEEZ.

“Yes,” Hongjoong tells him. “We’ll return the kid safely- Basil, was it?”

The sheriff warily nods, “We don’t have much, but we can reward you-”

“No need to talk about that,” Hongjoong glances in the direction he’d seen the bandits head off. “We better hurry. We might not look like much, but we can take them.”

“That’s… That’s very kind of you,” The sheriff says. “Very kind indeed.”

“Did they say where they were going?” Hongjoong asks, urgency jittering under his skin.

“The mines,” The sheriff tells the captain.

“They were on foot, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“C’mon,” Hongjoong hollers to his crew, “Let’s go.”

“O-Okay.” “Yes, captain.” “Do we have to run the whole entire way?” “Wait, am I- I’m coming with you?!” A few mutters echo across the crew.

“We don’t need to run. If it’s a hostage situation, they won’t harm the kid right away,” Hongjoong says, striding off expediently. Though he can’t run the entire way there, he can certainly walk briskly.

“We have to go back to that mine?” Yunho whimpers.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it quick,” Joong barks at the others. He sets his gaze determinedly on the horizon. They’ve got a siren, an ex spec-ops trainee, a cyborg, a Jongho and - worst case scenario - a Coalition meat shield. Hongjoong likes their chances.

* * *

Sweat drips down Hongjoong’s brow as the familiar sight of the brushy trees approach. Just beyond them lies the mines and the apparent hiding place for the nefarious bandits in black. The captain’s stomach stirs with nerves as they grow nearer. It’s so quiet out there, far away from their ship, from town.

From anybody.

A child could easily be slain and tossed down into the depths of the mine shafts. It’s very possible that the poor thing could never see the surface again. For once, Hongjoong feels like he’s in a position to help someone who really needs it. He’s not going to fail them - especially when “them” is a child from a backwater town overlooked by those meant to protect them.

Still, principles aside, that isn’t to say he’s completely devoid of regret. Sun saps his energy with each step he takes, and even with the UV field over them, it’s taking it’s toll. Part of him hopes that his face is forgettable, that if and when Coalition does turn up, nobody says a word. Joong prays he’s curried enough good favor to at least earn Tass’s silence. He supposes securing Basil’s safety will decide that for certain.

“Do we have a plan?” Wooyoung asks, coat slung over his shoulder. 

“Kick their asses and make sure the kid’s safe,” Hongjoong says. “Make sure blondie doesn’t sneak off in the fray.” Joong hears a little huff from somewhere behind him but doesn’t dignify the other with a look.

“Hey, is that them?” Yeosang joins Hongjoong’s side, nodding in front of them. Joong squints in the direction of the other’s scrutiny.

Up ahead there’s the brushy trees, the mine entrance and then… Black. At first, the captain assumes it’s just the depths of the mine; however, he doesn’t recall the entrance being so wide nor its shape being so ununiform. No, it’s not the entrance nor the depths of a cave. The amalgamous silhouette possesses fine lines that taper in and out.

They stand in a row, neat. Like toy soldiers. At first, it’s hard to tell, but as they get closer, Hongjoong counts eight of them - black statues lined up eerily still as if waiting. Long jackets, wide-brimmed hats. Masks.

“The man with no face.” 

That must be what the children referred to. They’re not faceless, they’re masked. Hardware glints and gleams in the hot afternoon sun. Chains dangle from shoulders, packets, sleeves, even their faces. 

“Are they… Watching us?” Wooyoung asks dubiously.

The eight men in black do not move in the slightest. For a moment, Hongjoong wonders if they’re just decoys set there, holograms or statues set down to distract and decieve. But that’s dumb. Why resort to such tactics when you have the upper hand?

“They’re expecting a ransom, aren’t they?” Yeosang responds.

“Do we play it off like we do have the money?” The first mate posits.

“I don’t like this,” Yunho pipes up from behind. 

“Neither do I,” Joong responds over his shoulder. 

The canis’s blond tail hangs low, dipping slightly between his legs, “Captain, I’m serious.  _ I don’t like this. _ ”

“So, what, we leave a defenseless child at the mercy of criminals?!” Hongjoong glares at the canis. He notices a certain someone let out a wry groan from the corner of his eye but ignores it.

“Yunho…” Hongjoong frowns. He trusts his friend’s intuition more than anything. If he says something’s wrong, Joong is inclined to believe it. But at the same time: of course he’ll feel something wrong. Even Hongjoong feels something off. It’s like the bandits radiate an aura of malignance. Though far away, Hongjoong can sense it. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and in spite of the sweltering heat, goosebumps prick his skin.

“It’ll be quick,” The captain declares. He casts his gaze forward, trying to stifle the tinge of paranoia underlining his stress. 

The bandits don’t budge.

They remain steadfast, not moving a centimeter, even when ATEEZ does arrive. Hongjoong approaches first, keeping a few meters of distance for safety. He squints, using his hand as a visor momentarily. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. There’s eight of them exactly - just as there happens to be eight of them. 

Their heights differ, and their outfits have slightly different adornments - a different chain or medal here and there. Their hats cast shadows over their faces. They’re covered head to toe. Joong can’t see any weaponry on them. Yeosang’s theory about cloaking could be true, he figures. Or perhaps their weapons are stashed somewhere in those massive jackets. They sure as hell could easily conceal all kinds of things. Hongjoong can’t imagine how they appear so composed. Aren’t they melting?

Joong scans the line of men and notices the distinct lack of one important thing.

“You’re the fellas in black I’ve been hearing so much about?” Hongjoong asks. It’s more proprietary, really. He figures he’ll at least give the diplomatic approach an attempt. Everything has to start with an introduction.

One of them - a shorter one toward the middle - quirks an eyebrow. No answer. Just a damn eyebrow twitch. The dismissive gesture irritates Hongjoong.

“Where’s the kid? Basil?” Hongjoong demands. “We’re here on behalf of the sheriff of Tass to make a deal.” It’s a lie. They didn’t come with shit. But those guys don’t know that. Hongjoong at least wants to get a response.

But nothing comes.

Their expressions are blank. Dark eyes covered by the large brims of dark hats, faces obscured by dark, chain-covered masks, men covered by massive, dark coats. Nothing. There’s no tells, no way to assess or analyze their behavior. Not even a twitch or a flinch.

Irritation stirs in Joong’s gut.

“You know the authorities will be here any minute,” Hongjoong says, his tone a little more pressed, a little more demanding. “So you better give up the child now. At least let us know the kid’s safe, or else you’ll have the Coalition to answer to.” The words leave a sour taste in his mouth. He doesn’t look at the petty officer, but he imagines the other is going through some things given the divine irony of the ruse.

Finally, a verbal answer comes.

But not the one Hongjoong expects.

Sure as hell not the one he wants.

“You’re right about one thing,” The raspy voice drawls out. A shadow emerges from the mine. They stroll toward ATEEZ’s crew, lackadaisical, as if they have not a single care in the world. “The Coalition is comin’.” Without prompting, the wall of black parts, making way for the broad, tanned man in a crisp, white suit. “Of course, it’s you they’re comin’ for.”

Panic spears Hongjoong straight through the chest. He stumbles back, ready to turn tail and run. 

The captain turns on his heel and orders the others with wide eyes, “Ru-nnn-nnnrgh-!” He can’t even finish the single syllable word. A shadow bears over him and a gloved hand closes around his throat. It squeezes without mercy, constricting his airway until he starts seeing double. Hongjoong coughs, sweaty fingertips slipping against the black leather of his attacker’s glove. His attempts at prying it off are fruitless. He sputters and struggles, fighting just to pass air through his throat. Around him, Hongjoong sees the others similarly apprehended. 

Hongjoong’s body is forcefully turned before he’s forced on his knees. The captain feels lightheaded, and his lungs begin to burn. Splotches of color spatter his vision as he’s forced to look up at the man responsible for this.

Mayor Jonessen smiles - a wide, toothy grin that’s entirely too white for Hongjoong’s liking, “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure you out, young man? Tass’s common folk may not have access to interstellar networks, but I do.”

The hand on his throat moves to his hair, gripping the long backside tight and yanking it so the captain has to look the mayor in the eye. Repulsion swims in Hongjoong’s gut along with bitterness and dismay. Though tears threaten to well up in his eyes he refuses to allow it. He will not show this man weakness. His main priority is getting out - but how?

“You conspired with the criminals who’ve been terrorizing your town?” Hongjoong coughs out, putting on a strong face. “That’s low.”

Jonessen laughs mirthfully, “Boy, I own this town!” His triumphant proclamation echoes across the empty, arid space. “I own everything. I own the stores, the farms, the industry. I own the criminals.”

Hongjoong’s brows knit. Normally, he’d be faster on the uptake, but given that he’s melting under the afternoon sun and his brain is wanting for oxygen, it takes him a minute. Apparently, his confusion is written on his face, so the smug ass mayor elaborates.

“You see, these here fellas in black came by one day lookin’ for trouble. I cut them a deal instead. Gave them a purpose,” Jonessen preens.

“A purpose to rob… Your people?” Hongjoong huffs. Slowly, he puts the pieces together.

The beautiful estate. The impeccably tailored suits. All of his fancy furniture. His own staff. Hongjoong supposes the mayor of an early settlement town wouldn’t pull the kind of salary to support that lavish of a lifestyle. But he doesn’t know for certain. 

Then the captain remembers something else.

“The evaluation,” Hongjoong mutters hoarsely. “You wanted to bribe the evaluation officer… Save some on the side for yourself…” The cough that follow scratches his lungs and throat painfully, making him flinch.

“You’re not as stupid as you look, captain,” The mayor laughs. “And let me tell you the evaluation officer is gonna be absolutely  _ thrilled  _ when they find your dead bodies in the mine. After I spotted you suspicious fellows and you terrorized this town, I saw it as my civic duty to take care of you. When you greedy sons o’ bitches tried to burgle this mine, I bravely followed and shut you in.”

Hongjoong doesn’t know what to say. Though he understands his ego should be the last thing on his mind right now, he can’t help but feel stupid. So fucking stupid. How could he ever think that some uppity mayor for a Coalition settlement actually liked them? 

How could he ever believe that the man had been kind for the sake of kindness?

He realizes that maybe it’s because he wanted to believe it. No, not maybe. It was most definitely because he wanted to believe it. The people of Tass were different. Are different - they’re not in on it, after all. This man’s screwing over all of them, stealing from right under their nose and letting eight phonies take the blame so he can pad his coffers. Still, Hongjoong wanted to believe in the little guy, the underdog, the leader of the quaint settlement that just wanted to live a peaceful life and do good by his people.

Now  _ there’s _ a fucking fairy tale.

Even toward the outermost reaches of charted space in the middle of fucking nowhere; even when people bust their ass day in and day out to get by, when they regard the simplest of things as indulgent luxuries - there is greed.

“You fellas are worth more than this village’s people make in a year’s time,” The mayor continues, stroking his pride. “By turning you in we’ll get our grant and collect on your bounties. Think of your capture as an… Altruistic gesture to serve the greater good of our people. We can finally invest in some good medical facilities, get some machines to help automate farming. Dig out some lakes... It’ll promise prosperity and abundance. Safety.”

“These people need safety from you,” Hongjoong growls, not giving a shit if it earns him extra punishment.

The mayor lets out a wheezing laugh. Joong tests the other’s hold on him. He struggles, but the bandit in black is unwavering. His grip on the captain’s hair increases to blistering, making the entire back of Hongjoong’s head sting. The captain grits his teeth, still refusing to show weakness.

Jonessen lets out a whistle, and a horse gallops over from behind the mine entrance, “Well then, I’ll leave you fellas to it. Now-” He turns to the one holding Hongjoong, “-make sure they’re still recognizable. Gotta be identifiable when the agent lands tonight.”

Joong’s eyes go wide as the man gets ready to mount his horse. He struggles against the bandit’s hold. In response, the bandit plants a hand firmly on his shoulder. Though Hongjoong doesn’t think the hold ought to affect him much, somehow the pressure on his shoulder is insurmountable. It’s like pushing against a wall. The bandit is completely unmoveable. Hongjoong doesn’t get it.

The captain’s thoughts reel fast. Is this it? Is this how he’s expected to die? Surely they can take the bandits down… Right? But if they are left to die in the mine… What will they do? Will they have to survive? Or are the bandits intent on finishing the job?

Thoughts on thoughts on thoughts upon thoughts storm throung Hongjoong’s head. Regrets, embarrassment, wounded pride, despair, hopelessness, desperation. Among them, one bubbles up, and impulse opens his lips.

“Wait!” Hongjoong shouts. Surprisingly, the mayor halts. One boot in the saddle’s stirrup, the man pivots so he can face Hongjoong, brows raised bemusedly. Hongjoong’s heart hammers against his chest as the thought throws itself out of his mouth. Tears threatening to fall, the captain pleads, “At least let the petty officer go.”

A life for a life.

The guy bailed his ass out, Joong figures he ought to exchange the favor. Maybe divine, karmic favor will come to him in the next life, and he’ll be born wealthy or some shit.

“He’s- he’s the blond one,” Hongjoong coughs out, apprehension and embarrassment pricking needles into his chest. “Surely you must’ve noticed if you looked into us.”

The mayor remains silent for a few seconds. Maybe for the slightest instant, he could’ve appeared contemplative, too, as if he was really considering Hongjoong’s words. But he crumbles fast. Soon, the visage gives way to loud laughter. Hongjoong can feel his face burn. Even worse, he can feel eyes boring into him - the judgment of his crew and the Coalition officer in question, no doubt.

“Him?! You want me to spare this guy?!” Jonessen clutches the saddle tightly, wheezing with laughter. His entire face looks like an unsightly collection of wrinkles. Hongjoong grimaces at the ugly image. The mayor hoists himself up onto his horse, grinning ear to ear.

“Trust me, he’s not with us,” Hongjoong responds as composedly as he can. “Don’t you wanna kiss ass as much as possible?”

“You think the Coalition gives a shit about one missing- what was it, petty officer?” The mayor laughs. “Park Seonghwa’s been pronounced dead. He’s MIA. Hell, they’d probably be pissed if he returned. It’d be more paperwork for them, not to mention revoking the pension that’s been doled out to his kin.”

Hongjoong’s jaw drops, and he sputters,“Wh- But- But he-?” The captain finds the PO a few meters away with a gloved hand around his throat. His blue eyes are wide open, and his face scrunches in a way that’s somehow familiar to Hongjoong. It’s not that Joong has seen Seonghwa with that expression, but he just knows. He knows what a person looks like when they’re on the verge of tears and doing everything in their power to keep them at bay. The blond’s nostrils flare and he blinks rapidly as his lips twitch.

Despite everything that they’ve been through - all of the ugliness, the insults, the threats - Hongjoong actually feels sorry for the other. He tried to advocate for the other, tried to do a good deed before getting thrown into an uncertain fate. He didn’t want to drag the other into this with him and his crew. But the disgusting mayor wouldn’t even extend that morsel of mercy.

Mayor Jonessen tips his hat, “Nothing personal, Petty Officer. It’s just that, well, let’s face it. You’re a rookie desk worker. Given your low value, I say that… It’s a price that I’m willing to pay for some justice and security for my people.”

“Fuck you!” Hongjoong shouts, anger flaring. The mayor snickers and prompts his horse to leave. Joong strains against the bandit’s hold, turning to watch the other, cursing at his flank, “You come back here! This rookie desk worker is twice the man you are! He’s done more for fucking justice and your Coalition’s shitty fucking ‘cause’ than entire squads of men have! He’s put himself at risk and endured imprisonment because he believed in your Coaliton- your process, your society and your fucking system! The system you’re using to exploit the very people you should lead- Hey! Get back here! Hey!”

The man spurs his horse, and it picks up into a brisk trot. All the while, Hongjoong curses at the man. His crew watches, wide-eyed. The petty officer appears more vacant than shocked. His mind is elsewhere. The bandits are completely apathetic.

Hongjoong shouts himself to exhaustion. He curses the bastard until every word passing through his throat feels like nails scraping his insides. He doesn’t stop until the wretched man disappears in the distance. He realizes how imprudent yelling so much had been when he feels himself being moved. He’s suddenly exhausted, powerless to resist as the bandit who’d taken hold of him drags him toward the open mouth of the mine den.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Rocks scrape against Hongjoong’s back as he digs his fingers between the bandit’s. It’s for naught. The bandit’s grip is firm and completely unwavering. He drags the captain by the back of his jacket toward the open mouth of the mine. Joong can hear grunts of struggle and protest from the crew around him. He wants to think of a solution, but his brain’s laggard, still lacking oxygen.

Suddenly, Hongjoong’s body is thrown. He skids across jagged rock and discarded metal pieces into the cave. A pained gasp leaves his mouth at the agony of rocks and rust scraping against his skin. Joong hears others drop in his approximate vicinity. A few even fly further, one or two unfortunates hitting the jagged wall at the very back of the top level. 

Hongjoong squints at those around him, trying to discern who is who. His eyes adjust to the dimness gradually, but it’s not enough time to think of anything meaningful. 

Yet again, they stand in a neat row. Black, broad silhouettes barricade ATEEZ’s crew, barring them from their only exit. Footsteps approach, their sound that of heavy boots. They step slowly, ever so slowly - almost relaxedly, savoringly - toward the captain.

Hongjoong tries to get up. He winces, gritting his teeth to endure the hurt stinging him inside and out.

“You don’t have to do this,” Hongjoong says, his voice more hoarse than he’d like. He manages to prop himself up on his elbows, squeezing back the tears welling up in his eyes. “Think about what you’re doing here. If you want money, why not just rob the big guy?”

The footsteps halt.

For a moment, the cave falls silent. There’s naught but the distant drips of water and wind blowing beyond. Vision gradually improving, Hongjoong makes out the figure bearing down on him. They’re very much the same as everyone else. Black jacket, black hat, black mask, chains. Sunlight trickles in from behind the bandit. The one detail that distinguishes this one from all the rest is his hair. It’s long, grazing the bandit’s shoulder.

“Money?” A voice cuts through the silence.

Goosebumps needle Hongjoong’s skin. It sounds familiar, that voice.

The bandit’s shoulders shake as he lets out a soft chuckle, “You think we’re doing this for the money…?” He bends over and leafs gloved fingers through the captain’s hair. Hongjoong freezes with panic. He’s terrified the bandit is going to pull, but he doesn’t. Instead, what he does is so, so much worse.

Though the bandit’s hands aren’t particularly large, they fan out the fingers across the captain’s skull and squeeze. Air departs the captain’s lungs as he’s lifted into the air by his head alone. His mouth drops, throat squeezing around stillborn wails of agony at the mounting pressure on his head. Yet again he feels lightheaded, wide-eyed and terrified. His heels dig in uselessly, quickly losing traction as his body’s held in the air. Though the man in black is no bigger than the captain himself, he lifts Hongjoong with the ease one would a ragdoll.

“You know nothing of our motivations,” The bandit’s tone is almost lilting. Amused, perhaps.

“It… It-it-” Hongjoong coughs loudly, blinking tears back as he attempts to speak. “It can’t be… B-be worth… It-” He huffs out.

The bandit moves, carrying Hongjoong over to the inky black dropoff of the lift. Joong’s heart drops. Sickness roils in the captain’s stomach as he realizes what’s about to happen.

_“Craaack!”_ A loud noise echoes out from across the cave. Joong attempts to get a look. Unable to turn his head, he just barely catches sight of one of the bandits by a cave wall. His eyes go wide, and he questions what he sees. A black-clad bandit had, somehow, managed to dig his arm halfway into a wall. Splinters and cracks radiate from the point of impact.

_“Bbbrrbbrbrbrbbrbr…”_ A low rumble kicks up from the mouth of the lift.

They’re deliberately upsetting the structure of the leaky, decrepit mine. It makes sense to Hongjoong, now. The bandits plan to throw them down and trap them. Tears flood the captain’s eyes anew, but he stubbornly holds them back. He urges himself to think. Think, think, just think. It’s all he can do. However, in the present even that proves difficult. He can feel the grip on his head tighten. Joong can’t hold back the lingering fear that his skull will get crushed before he can do anything else. Pain pulsates from the points of contact, overpowering logical thought more and more with each passing second.

Without warning, the bandit lets go.

Hongjoong can’t relish in the relief because the instant the other’s hand opens, his body begins to fall. His shocked yelp gets caught in his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut on instinct. There’s a decent chance that the fall won’t kill him. Somehow, the prospect is even more horrific to Hongjoong. He and his crew will be left to rot, bones broken and bleeding out as they’re tossed into the mine shaft like garbage down a chute. He doesn’t want to endure that misery. He doesn’t want his crew to, either.

No.

Hongjoong refuses to.

Desperately, he reaches out toward his aggressor. In that instant that stretches on to feel like a lifetime, he stretches his body as far as it will go, searching. If he’s going down, he’s going to take at least one of thse fuckers with him. Cool metal grazes Hongjoong’s fingertips, and he closes his hand around it without a second thought.

Hongjoong holds onto that bandit’s chain for his life.

Though the bandit showed insane strength, the surprise element ultimately compromises his balance. The tension in the chain goes slack as the man in black stumbles after Hongjoong. The captain’s mind reels. Acting more on preservative instinct than conscious thought, he tugs the other close and shoves him down. Joong figures if the fucker’s going to throw him down, at least he ought to give him the courtesy of a soft landing.

A lot of noise and commotion follows. There are shouts and grunts, the sound of collisions - fists against flesh and grappling. Though it feels like forever, Hongjoong’s trip to the bottom takes seconds. Luckily, as he hoped, he lands on top of the man in black. In spite of the cushion, the landing still hurts. The impact swiftly knocks the air out of Hongjoong’s lungs. 

Chest burning, Hongjoong rolls off of the other. He wheezes to catch his breath yet again, but his lungs adamantly oppose cooperation. The captain casts a sideways glance at the bandit who’d landed with him. The smear of black remains completely and utterly still. Hongjoong gulps nervously, wondering if the man had hit the back of his head. Guilt begins mixing with the swill of pain and anxiety swimming in Hongjoong’s guts. Did he just sentence that man to death? Sure, the guy was a bastard. But he was still just a sellsword. The man was doing a job. Obviously, it was a survival situation - but did he deserve to die? Hongjoong sniffles. He tries to shake away the thoughts zipping around in his head, to focus on getting the hell out.

That’s when the bandit sits up.

The movement is so smooth and sudden, Hongjoong actually freezes. Though he can barely see in the darkness, Hongjoong can feel the other’s gaze boring into him. That man is very much alive. Alive and probably pissed. Joong immediately turns and fights to get back onto his feet.

_“Craash!” “Craash-!”_

Hongjoong yelps as two more shapes drop onto the ground right next to him. Joong covers his mouth to stop himself from letting out a wail. His chest heaves as panic spikes, shooting through his veins like injected poison. His eyes begin to adjust to the darkness more and more. He notices a wide-brimmed hat and a tail. 

A tail?

“Y-Yunho-” _“Craaaaash!” “Thud!!”_ “-ahh!” Joong shrinks back into a nearby wall as more drop. Are they all just jumping down? Or are they being thrown? In the dark, it’s so hard to tell friend from foe.

_“Brbrbrbrbrb…”_ Hongjoong’s body shakes, though surprisingly not due to his own nerves. The mines shift and shudder around him. _“Brbrbrbrb-”_

“Captain!” A voice calls out.

“Hongjoong?” Comes another.

_“Sllliiip-”_ “Aaaah-!” _“Thud- thud!”_ More drop to the lower level.

“Who- Who’s there?!” Hongjoong asks pleadingly. He winces when a blue-hued beam of light shines across the cavern. Too panicked to think straight, Hongjoong can doesn’t have much time to figure out what’s happening. He sees the crags, rocks, and jagged metal of the old mine. He sees cracks stretching across the walls like veins. He manages to make out a few familiar faces, much to his relief, “Y-Yeosang?”

The cyborg, eyelights on, scans the cavern,“Captain- Fff-!” A bandit rushes toward him, tackling him to the ground. Hongjoong lunges toward the two, but he collides with something else before reaching the other.

_“Splaaaash!” “Squeaaak-”_

Wetness pours down Hongjoong’s back, making him and whoever he’d crashed into freeze momentarily. The captain’s head whips around in search of the source. In the low light of the cavern he squints to see a leak sprung from a crack above.

“Oh fuck-”

_“Brbbrbrbrbbr…”_

“Where is everyone?!” Hongjoong calls out. A force tugs him by the collar. The pressure on his windpipe makes him cough and sputter.

“I-I’m here-” “We’re right here.” “I…” “Captain they’re-”

_“Brbrbbrbrbr…”_

_  
_ _“Splaaaash!”_

“Fuck- It’s the mine-”

Hongjoong calls out hopeless, confused, wet, and in pain. Everyone is moving too fast. Everything is a collection of blurs and shadows, barely discernible in the darkness.

“BBbrbrbrbbrbbrbbrbr…” The rumbling grows louder, and Hongjoong’s knees shake. He feels as if his very bones are rattling. The tremors run up from the soles of his feet to the base of his spine. 

_“Splaash!” “Drip- drip- drip-”_

“Shit-!” “Up the lift!” Desperate calls echo across the cavern. They bounce around, distorting into haunting, hollow noises, like the cries of ghosts. Who knows. Maybe soon they _will_ be ghosts. Joong throws the haunting thought out of his head.

“Fuck-” “It’s slippery-” “Ow!” “What even are you people?!” “Ff-” “It’s over there-”

_“BRBRBRBBRBRBRBR-” “Splaaaaaaash!”_

The leaky crack above Hongjoong bursts. It baffles the captain that a place so dry could have so much water undrground. A massive stream waterfalls down from above. The force slams Hongjoong back onto the ground, and the captain cries out. His screams are drowned, washed away with the violent current of water flooding the cavern. Hongjoong can feel the force of gravity coax the water elsewhere - and his body along with it.

The captain tries to warn, “The water, it’s-”

_“CRAAASH!” “SPLAAAAAAASH!”_

Another rupture happens elsewhere, doubling the pace of the flooding. The sudden influx is enough to submerge the captain, and for a moment, things go quiet.

Roaring waters drag the captain under. Beneath the surface, sounds dull, and the pressure of gravity relinqueshes. Hongjoong’s tears feel hot in comparison to the chilling stream carrying him. Under the surface, he allows himself that. He lets his heart break and cries. He cries because he is in pain, because he was once again deceived and betrayed, because he is on the precipice of losing everything - of causing those he cherishes to lose everything. 

But most of all, he cries because he knows that nobody will hear him.

The spell is brief yet cathartic, and when he’s had his moment of self pity, he feels oddly refreshed. The physical pain is still there, a reminder that he’s alive, and the emotional toil remains ever present, static electricity swimming under his skin, thorns just ever so gently prodding his heart. The captain determinedly flails his limbs. For a brief second, he surfaces, and upon doing so he takes the biggest breath he can. He wades in the opposite direction of the current, toward where he assumes he’d come from.

His fingers find something in the dark - a rock or metal post, he doesn’t know. The captain closes one hand around the thing, then another. He clings for dear life as water rushes further down into the depths of the dessicated mine.

* * *

San grits his teeth as he drags Wooyoung out of the raging stream. The hume is shockingly heavy. The siren loops his arms under the hume’s shoulders, digging his heels into the soaked rock beneath his feet. The main chamber flooded, resulting in everyone getting washed away. Everyone dispersed too quickly, getting dragged down into every nook and cranny. Though the siren considers himself unmatched under water, even he couldn’t follow everyone. He had to make a choice.

Wooyoung coughs, grimacing as consciousness gradually returns, “San…?” He murmurs weakly.

“I’ve almost gotten you out,” San intones softly. “It looks like something caught on your ankle.” Gnarled metal wraps around the human’s ankle, binding him to the depths. San’s brows knit with exertion as he tugs Wooyoung out the rest of the way.

The siren’s expression transitions into one of shock as another body gets dragged up. Dangling from the tangle of metal is a man. Initially, San bristles. He clutches Wooyoung closer, ready to defend him from an oncoming attack. However, San quickly realizes that the man who’d gotten tangled with Woo is certainly no bandit.

Hands hang limply from the cuffs attached to the chain. Light flickers on and off behind the familiar blue eyes. Typically gleaming, perfect hair sticks to the man’s face and his black clothes cling to him, revealing a gauntness San hadn’t noticed before. How far the mighty fall. The petty officer looks completely unlike himself. Now barely conscious, San wonders how he ever allowed himself to feel aggressed by someone so pitiful. 

San contemplates leaving the officer as is. He could simply disentangle the chain from Wooyoung and toss the man back into the water. While the brief idea of it is entertaining, San knows himself. He could never go through with it.

  
The voice of his chief echoes in his head; “You’re soft,” it chides. San ignores it. The will and ways of his old life have no place in his new one. Reluctantly, the siren reaches forward and takes hold of the chain. He unwraps it from Wooyoung’s ankle and drags the petty officer out onto the rubble beside the other.

The blond is surprisingly hardy, and he murmurs,“Th...Thank y-” His words devolve into a coughing fit.

San heaves a sigh, ignoring the other to assess their situation. The siren slicks his toussled locks back as he surveys the area around them. They’d gotten flushed somewhere further in the depths of the mine. Water continues to wash down the tunnel from which they’d come. San follows the stream as it traces the ground before waterfalling down a slope. The noise of it is near deafening, ricocheting ceaselessly from wall to wall.

Cautiously, San walks over to follow the stream’s steps. The strip of rock they’d landed on trembles ever so slightly beneath his feet. The siren mutters a curse when he sees where the stream of water ends. The rock slopes slightly before cutting off abruptly into a steep drop off. San hears the sound of water crashing down below, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t for the life of him see the bottom. That worries him.

The ground is slippery, and from what he observes there is only one way back - the way from whence they came. Though the ferocity with which the water flows down has diminished, San still isn’t certain that guarantees an easy journey. Not to mention - if they continuously disturb the mines, how much longer can they rely on its structural stability?

“San!” Wooyoung shouts strainedly. “Watch out-!”

The siren turns, and a fist immediately smashes into his face. San staggers back, shifting rubble beneath his feet threatening to send him downward. He grits his teeth and bears the pain. The next hand that shoots toward him gets deflected by the siren. 

San brings a knee up and plants a swift kick in the gut of his pursuer - a figure clad in black. Perhaps the dark clothing cloaks him from normal humans, but San is no normal human. Used to low light conditions from years in the depths, he uses his other senses to compensate for what he lacks.

Footfalls nearby inform him that his pursuer is not alone. San ducks down, narrowly avoiding another arm. He dashes away from the drop off to face them on more solid ground. 

“Behind you!” Wooyoung calls out more assuredly. San pivots with wide eyes. As Woo said, another one of them is leering at him just an arm’s length away. The siren hears the crumbling of rock in the distance.

  
Wooyoung scrambles onto his feet, rushing to the siren’s side. He shoves one off only to get grabbed. The two struggle beside San as the first one comes for the siren. The siren gasps, nearly usurped in his distracted state. Thankfully, he notices before it’s too late.

San moves fluidly, trying to anticipate his opponent’s movements. Initially, the siren fights with confidence. He lands a few good kicks. Though it’s dim, San swears he nails the other’s head a few times. Surely that ought to hinder an opponent. Commotion echoes throughout the cavern as Wooyoung engages in his own struggle. In his peripherals, San makes out another pair duking it out.

The siren’s brows raise with surprise. Is that the petty officer? His photon chain has dimmed significantly, but his hands remain bound even if barely. The blond struggles as a bandit lifts him by the collar of his shirt. His photon chain flickers, illuminating the passage in disorienting flashes. The fiend doesn’t appear to bat an eyelash. Holding a man up with a single hand doesn’t seem to strain the fiend in the slightest.

_“Craack-!”_ San grimaces as a fist comes in contact with his temple. He feels utterly foolish for letting the struggle of someone else - a prisoner, no less - distract him. San’s vision swims momentarily, the few shapes he can discern blurring. San glares at his shadowy pursuer and redoubles his effort more aggressively.

With practiced grace, the siren jumps up stretching his leg out in a targeted kick. His foot strikes his target square on the windpipe. 

_“Thud.”_

A dull noise sounds out just meters away. San’s head shoots in the direction of the noise. Consternation spears his chest. The human’s familiar silhouette lays on the ground, limp and vulnerible.

“Wooyoung!” San shouts. He leaps toward the hume.

With inhuman speed, the masked bandit San had been fighting slides in front of him. San ends up slamming straight into the mysterious person. The siren grimaces as he’s sent to the ground. He feels as if he’d run straight into a wall. How could a mere human be so immovable?

A few other strained grunts echo through the cavern. San tries to bound past his rival, but the faceless adversary sticks an arm out, gripping the siren tight. The person’s grip is blistering. Fingertips dig into the siren’s side mercilessly, eliciting a searing pain. San fights the person’s grip. He squeezes their arm and thrashes about, but it’s to no avail.

The dark figure by Wooyoung takes a fistful of the hume’s clothing and begins carrying him elsewhere. He walks away, toward the slick slope leading to the drop off. San’s stomach squelches, pained by panic as he writhes. Apparently bothered by the siren’s resistence, his aggressor throws him down abruptly.

San’s body bounces off the rocky ground, and the siren cries out. Rock collides with his spine, and the pain runs through the entirety of his body. He sniffs loudly as he labors to remain lucid. Physical pain he can endure. It’s Wooyoung that he’s more worried about.

The shadow tracking San stands over him menacingly. Though San can’t properly see the person’s gaze, he can tell the other is staring - perhaps plotting, perhaps taunting.

Weakly, San tries to steel himself with a breath. The air scrapes his lungs as it passes through, but he adamantly tolerates it. The siren takes another breath and begins to focus. With great effort he manages to calm himself to such a state that he can properly think.

San begins with a low hum to attune himself to his surroundings. The sound reverberates through the rock, bouncing across the open chamber above. A hand reaches toward him as he sings weakly:

“Please don’t let me go…” His voice is loud and resonant across the tunnel. “It’s been decided, my only way-”

The bandit dwelling above him simply bends down and grabs him by the throat, apparently unaffected. Tears well in the siren’s eyes, but he continues.

“I believe in me…” The sound is weak, but the frequency is proper. San is sure of that. For all his flaws and shortcomings, he’s confident and practiced in his vocal abilities. Yet still, the hand around his throat tightens, “The moment you say m-my n-” He wheezes futilely, no longer able to vocalize.

San’s body is lifted up until he’s face to face with the faceless man. The rogue holds him close and speaks. His voice is monotone yet malignant.

“Your efforts are fruitless. I am no mere man,” They inform the siren.

Dizziness sets the world into a spin. The siren can’t even muster an answer let alone retaliate as his airflow is restricted. His gills throb from the bruising grip with which the other handles him. Guilt and inadequacy join the pike of fear driving into his gut. He laments his shortcomings. After being raised up as a warrior, trained to seduce and manipulate with his voice, he had accomplished neither. How? How can one be so incompetent?

In spite of the shadows smearing in San’s tunneled vision, he looks for Wooyoung. A figure dangles the hume over the dropoff toward the edge. Pebbles roll off of the incline, falling into nothingness - a foretelling of the fate to become them. The petty officer is pulled along, likely set to suffer a similar fate.

San’s body is tossed yet again. The siren rolls across wet rock, sliding dangerously close to the dropoff. He grimaces at the fresh wave of pain that rolls over him, new aches and scrapes joining his other recent afflictions. The siren begins by propping himself up. Giving up simply is not something he abides by. He will fight to the death.

However, his death does not seem nearly as impending as the other’s, which worries him. 

_“Screeeeeeeeeeeeee-!”_

San winces, pulsating pain striking his temples as bright light fills the cavern. For the first time since getting thrown down, the men in black appear phased. They pause, cowering from the burst of photons.

“Shit-” The petty officer mutters. His arms are parted - something new. The blond, chest heaving, bruised with hair matted down, looks at his hands. San infers that the man’s cuffs finally gave out, but he hardly has the time or care to consider the matter further.

Unfortunately, the distraction doesn’t last long.

Out of the corner of his eye, San sees the bandit who’d been holding Wooyoung drop the hume. The siren screams, starting after him. It’s all too sudden, too soon. Life moves too slowly for San. He wishes he could turn it back - even if only for seconds. If he’d just spent an instant less contemplating the bastard blond and paid attention… If he’d just been competent and managed to properly sing or properly fight. Regrets pour over the despaired siren. His struggle to combat the bandit threat doesn’t compare to the internal fight he engages in to keep himself together. 

With no preamble or warning, in a second, Wooyoung is dropping. San jolts - another futile effort that ends in nothing more than pain. A blur of black bounds toward the edge.

San’s first instinct is to shove the offender off the edge, to sentence him to the same fate he damned his dearest friend to. He feels fingers wrapping around his arm but manages to wriggle out. San scrambles off of the ground, sending more rocks and pebbles sliding over the edge - where Wooyoung is now. His shoes slip and slide against the uneven surface, threatening to upend him. He clamors toward the black mass draped over the edge, ready to fight to the last breath.

But that breath is wrested from him by shock.

San blinks rapidly, shocked and confused.

“M-Maybe help me,” The black figure says through gritted teeth.

The siren hadn’t even noticed. He saw black clothing and assumed. He thought that Wooyoung had been thrown over the edge and that had been it. He didn’t know why one of the bandits would have decided to watch so dangerously close to the edge. He thought it to be hubris, perhaps. In truth he didn’t dwell on it at all.

“H-He’s slipping,” The blond man’s body lurches forward.

San tosses out conscious thought and shoves his shock aside. His body moves without prompting and suddenly he’s bent over the edge, stretching so he can reach Wooyoung. The hume is unconscious and uncooperative, so San has to settle for his collar. 

“You got him?” The blond asks.

San’s brows furrow, “Wh-” Without warning, the Wooyoung’s weight triples. San gasps, scrambling to get a better grip. The petty officer let go. Myriad colorful curses course through the siren’s head, but given his preoccupation he neglects to put them out to air. He grits his teeth, focusing on hoisting the other up.

The vast cavern amplifies the sounds of struggle. San feels it around him - the hastened steps reverberating through the ground, fast movement cutting air. The siren hoists Wooyoung back up as chaos ensues around him. He casts a few glances around, and his heart drops. The blond hadn’t thoughtlessly let Wooyoung go. He’d done so to redirect the focus of their pursuers.

The petty officer fights valiantly. Though he’s clearly outmatched, he continuously stands up, dodges, feints - does everything he can. San pulls Wooyoung up far; far away from the fight by the edge. He finds a dilapidated hunk of metal. Perhaps it had served as scaffolding or material at some point. Now, it serves as cover for Wooyoung. San whispers an invigorating reassurance in the other’s ear, stroking his cheek soothingly. 

The flow of water has died down, and San feels confident that he could manage the swim upstream - even with Wooyoung in tow.

However, his gaze is drawn not to easy escape, but to the fighting down below. Regardless of personal feelings, the rotten blond is aligned with San. Not to mention he risked himself to save Wooyoung. San has to know why. Even without his curiousity, he knows it dishonorable to leave an ally in combat. It’s an act of cowardice, and Choi San is no coward.

“I’ll be back,” San whispers to Wooyoung. He hesitates for a second before pressing his forehead against the other’s.

The siren bounds toward the cluster of black, charging toward the nearest one. Though brief, the distraction gives the blond time to get onto his feet. Three on two is far from easy, especially given their adversaries. These are no common thugs, San’s concluded. They’re quick to learn, anticipating the siren’s high kicks with increasing ease. Their strength isn’t that of a typical human. Hell, not even sirens have such might.

San keeps two occupied while a third tangles with the petty officer. Grunts and the sound of shuffling boots echo through the chamber. The siren contemplates their current situation. They’re getting nowhere as is. One of these people is too much for San alone, let alone two. He wonders how the odds would be in the reverse situation, though. 

The siren feints right before pivoting on his foot and jumping left. He joins the blond’s side. Two on one could count in their favor. The blond pauses for an instant, likely confused and unsure of who’d joined his side.

“Don’t just stand there,” San says gruffly.

The petty officer understands that, and the two team up on the single adversary. The other pair rush to join their comrade unsurprisingly. San just hopes at least the focus on a single one could work in their favor.

_“Brbbrbrbrbbrbr…”_

The cavern quakes as the five go at it, San and Seonghwa exchanging blows with one while deflecting the others.

_“Brbrbrbbrr…”_

San huffs, fatigue starting to kick in. He can tell his interim ally is beginning to tire as well. Their enemies endure, relentless. Do they not tire?

_“Brbrbrbbrr…”_

The siren eyes their way out. He’s relieved the bandits are occupied iwth them and not Wooyoung, but he fears that their only way out may be down after all.

_“Brbrbrbrbbrr…”_

A bandit’s fist flies toward San, but he ducks quickly. Unfortunately, the petty officer takes the hit. He staggers back for a second but springs back impressively. The man brings a knee to the other’s gut swiftly. It must have taken the hardy criminal off guard, because the bandit actually halts.

_“Brbrbrbbrrrbrbrbr…”_

Their attacker stumbles back, their boot sliding against rubble underfoot.

_“Brbrbrbbrbr- craaack-crack-crack!”_

The ground beneath the bandit rapidly erodes. Though it’s dark, San can see the white of the bandit’s eyes as he clamors toward safety. In response, all on solid ground cower away from the receding edge of the dropoff. The most unfortunate of them all rushes to get onto solid ground, but it’s too late. The rocks beneath him crumble, falling into the chasm below. 

San gasps. Yet again, there’s movement next to him. Quickly, a body throws themself toward the fallen. And once more, the aforementioned body belongs to none other than the petty officer. Petty Officer Park’s face contorts with agony as he grips the bandit’s wrist tightly.

“Are you insane?!” San balks.

The blond ignores him, pulling him up, “Help… Me…”

“Is this a fix?! Wh-Why are you consorting with the enemy?!” San stumbles back, surprised. He bumps into a bandit and panic strikes him. He jumps, startled. He expects a blistering grip to close around his arm. However, the bandits are preoccupied, equally as shocked as he, apparently. San can see the other two present stand motionless. Though masked, their wide eyes betray their expression.

“I’m n-not,” The petty officer grunts strainedly. His body lurches down, and by impulse San rushes over to grab the man’s ankles. San has no idea what possesses him to do so, but he joins in the effort to rescue the bandit.

“Do you always save your enemies?” San asks, winded. One of the two bastards in his grasp are heavy.

“They need to be… Put to just...ice… Not killed,” Seonghwa grimaces, and San can feel the tension in the man’s body.

Suddenly, San’s body flies into the air.

No, it doesn’t fly, actually. He realizes it merely feels that way because someone is lifting him. Nerves lodge into San’s throat as a pair of arms wrap around his waist. He knows them not to be Wooyoung’s, and dread seizes his heart as he’s carried up and away. The siren keeps his grip on the blond’s ankles steadfast, and the petty officer’s own vice remains unwavering.

With ease, the bandit holding San walks all three of them back up to solid ground before unceremoniously dropping the siren. San winces and coughs when he hits the ground. The petty officer lets out another pained whine.

“Congratulations,” San growls at the hume. “You’ve given us a death sentence. You really are a piece of work, throwing yourself into danger- for what? To save the enemy?”

“I- I told you-” The blond wheezes, limbs splayed out on the ground. “I told you already, I- I…” He coughs loudly, and his body folds on itself.

One of the black forms steps over to the petty officer’s side. In spite of everything, San musters himself yet again. Pain resonates through his body with the loudness that sound echoes through the cavern. It bounces back and forth ceaselessly across his body, into his bones and bubbling up to his skin. 

Regardless, no amount of pain deems it acceptable to give up.

  
The siren crawls over to the other, ready to shield the blond with his body while he thinks of a plan. The bandit in black bends over, leaning in close to the blond’s face. A familiar yet hollow sounding voice speaks to the hume.

“Why did you save me?” It asks. The question is delivered with no emotion or indication as to its purpose. Is the person toying with their victim? San wonders.

Seonghwa laboriously props himself up on his elbows to better regard the fellow. Voice dire and serious, he answers.

“Like I said to him, you don’t deserve to die for your actions. You deserve justice. A sentence fitting your crime. Not death. Death won’t teach anyone a lesson.”

The bandit cocks their head to the side, the expression coming off almost animated, exaggerated, “And your system, your ‘justice’ - that is how you intend to teach? Will a so-called ‘sentence’ genuinely ‘teach’ the lesson you wish to instill?”

Seonghwa lets out a wry laugh as if in disbelief. San doesn’t blame the man. He, too, is utterly confused. He begins questioning whether or not he’s conscious or if he’s started hallucinating.

The blond answers, “Does a child not learn when they are spanked or rewarded?”

The bandit backs off, standing up straight yet again. A prolonged silence ensues. San waits. He waits for some sort of lashing or to be snatched up again. The sound of rushing water fills the chamber, seemingly louder than ever.

“Interesting…” The inquisitive bandit hums after his quiet spell. The bandit backs up, and the others join their side. 

The three walk away. They walk and walk and walk until they disappear into the darkness completely. San’s heart stops. Where have they gone?

“Very, very interesting…” The words whisper through the darkness, echoing until they recede into nothingness.

San and Seonghwa search frantically, heads whipping in every which direction.

Minutes pass with no sign of their pursuers. In their wake, the sound of water loudens to thunderous. San hesitantly stands up. His entire body aches, and bones crack upon doing so. The siren stumbles over toward the precipice cautiously, senses on high alert for any sign of their enemies.

They don’t appear.

The siren peers over the edge dubiously, squinting in search of them. He finds no one. Not a soul. However, the observation isn’t for naught. He does discover a useful bit of information.

“The water level is rising,” San observes, his voice carrying across the cave. “If it continues at this rate, it’ll eventually fill this place. There’s a chance we could float upon the surface and swim up with it… However, I can’t ensure everyone’s safety in those conditions - even with my abilities. We should probably start our ascent now.”

He checks on the petty officer over his shoulder. In the darkness he makes out an affirmitive nod from the other. So many questions race to the tip of the siren’s tongue as he trudges back up the slope. He doesn’t ask them, though. They can wait. Perhaps he will never know the answers. That, he is fine with, he thinks. So long as he and Wooyoung get out okay. Then he can focus on the rest of the crew.

In the moment, San focuses on the task at hand. He fetches Wooyoung, slinging one of the man’s arms over his shoulder. He offers a free hand to the officer.

“Hold on,” San instructs as they approach the now steady waterfall. He has no idea how long their trip up will be. Though dusty and even slightly brackish, the water refreshes the siren. Thoughts stir restlessly in his head as he carries the two humans up.

* * *

Yunho shudders.

Everything is wet. His clothing, his hair, his skin - everything. It’s unpleasant, slippery, and unbelievably cold. The canis shivers, goosebumps pricking his skin. He dazedly tries to recall what happened.

One second, the lot of them are in the mineshaft, frantic. The next, everything floods. Yunho’s body got swept away by the current. After that, it’s black. The aching in his temples hints that he got knocked out somewhere along the way.

“H-Hello?” Yunho coughs out weakly. His senses are shot. All he can smell is must and water, and all he can hear is drips and water running in the distance. “A-Anyone?”

The canis tries to get a better sense of his bearings. He starts by standing up. That, however, is quickly stunted. The canis gets on all fours and begins to push himself up only for his back to hit the ceiling. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” The humecanis hisses. He runs his hands along the floor and up the walls to the ceiling to confirm that he is, in fact, in a tiny tunnel. “Fuck.”

Yunho makes an attempt to scramble in the directions he assumes is out. In truth he has no genuine bearings. He trusts his gut, though. It doesn’t usually steer him wrong. The canis stretches out awkwardly, getting into a crawling position to shimmy up the hole.

He stretches a hand out and yelps when it hits something smooth and soft. Yunho holds back a wail, imagining all of the icky things he could’ve possibly just touched. Timidly, he reaches his hand out again, to further investigate. The smooth, soft thing he’d pawed actually feels familiar.

Yunho’s brows knit with concentration as he gingerly feels around the thing. It’s… Pointed. Fairly pointed. Not hard like rock but somewhat rigid. Yunho tries to recall the word for it, and when it comes to him, realization ignites. 

Cartilage.

That’s the fancy word for it!

  
He runs his fingers down the sloped cartilage and comes in contact with soft, pillowy peaks. Lips. They’re lips! Yunho grazes his hand down a chin and along a carved jawline, finally resting it on a cheek. 

Not just any cheek, either. Yunho would know this cheek (and the face belonging to it) anywhere. He’d stared, caressed, and kissed it so many times already. He could never mistake Mingi.

“Oof-” Mingi lets out a soft whine, wincing.

“M-Mingi?” Yunho says softly. The tunnel is cramped, but he does his best to shimmy up so he’s face to face with him. The canis is no stranger to straddling the Venusian, anyway. Given the circumstances, he’s sure the other won’t take offense.

“Mmnn…” Mingi hums and turns on his side as if he’d been woken from a nap.

“Mingi, it’s me, Yunho,” The canis says. 

“Yu… nho…” Mingi mumbles.

“Yes, it’s me, Yunh- oh- okay, Mingi- b-babe-” Yunho chuckles sheepishly as long arms wrap around him. Yunho tries to pull away gently, but he’s yanked down. Mingi holds him tight, wrapping around him like one would a beloved stuffed animal.

“Warm…” Mingi mutters.

“Mingi, are you okay?” Yunho asks. He cards a hand through the other’s wet hair, feeling for scrapes or bumps. Surprisingly, there’s nothing of note. No warm spots indicating blood or massive bumps. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Yunho says.

He gets nothing.

“Mingi, does anything hurt?”

Still nothing.

“Mingi?”

  
Again, nothing.

“Mingi are you asleep?” Yunho asks incredulously.

“Warm,” Mingi hums, nuzzling Yunho’s neck.

Yunho suppresses the mirthy warmth swimming in his gut. Seriously? He chastises himself. Now is not the time. Maybe another day he can cross “freaky cave sex” off of his bucket list, but today is definitely not that day.

Wetness laps up at Yunho’s feet, and he frowns.

“Yunho is warm,” Mingi hums. He clings to the canis, wrapping his legs around the other’s waist, too. “So warm…”

Mingi, in contrast to the canis, is cold as hell. Yunho shivers as the heat is sapped from his body by the one underneath him.

“M-Mingi, I think the water level under us is rising,” Yunho says concernedly, looking down. The water’s already pooling at his ankles. They need to start climbing up the tunnel fast.

“It’s… Okay,” Mingi replies softly. “We’ve got time. Les’ take a nap.”

Yunho softens in spite of his better judgment. The Venusian is so damn cute. Especially when he’s like this. He’s extra cuddly when he’s sleepy, and it’s absolutely fatal to Yunho’s already smitten self. Yunho slackens slightly, rationing that maybe one or five more minutes couldn’t do too much harm. He nestles closer to the other, resting his chin atop the other’s head and planting a kiss. It’s nice to cuddle with the other, especially after the whirlwind of shit they’ve been through.

At least it should be.

But something is the matter.

Something’s off about Mingi. Terribly, terribly off. No matter how much body heat the other saps from Yunho, he doesn’t feel any warmer. Yunho cups the other’s face in a hand and winces. The skin feels clammy and almost slimy beneath his fingertips. Is this what happens to Venusians when they’re wet for too long?

Water splashes up to Yunho’s thighs. Already?

“Mingi, we need to go,” Yunho urges the other more insistently.

“Just a little longer, Yunho,” Mingi whines.

Yunho never thought he’d think such a thing in his life (let alone so early in their relationship) but he has to face it: he is not enjoying this cuddle session. The canis squirms, but the Venusion’s hold is stubborn and strong. Yunho’s entire lower half is already submerged. The higher the water gets, the more panicked Yunho feels.

“Mingi,” Yunho doesn’t like to play hardball. He’s not the authoritative type by any means. However, this is quite literally a life or death situation. “Mingi we need to move.”

The other doesn’t stir.

“Mingi-” The panic starts creeping into the canis’s voice. “Mingi I’m serious, the water’s getting higher on us!” The water level continues to rise fast, reaching Yunho’s navel.

“Mm-mm,” The other mumbles a response, tightening his hold.

“Mingi- Mingi- Mingimingimingi-!” Yunho whimpers, wriggling and writhing in the other’s arms. “Mingi- we need to go- we need to go!”

“Yunho,” Mingi whines. 

“Mingi we are going to drown-”

“Yunho stop… Moving…”

“I need you to let go,” Yunho tries to sound as calm as possible. Internally, he’s freaking out, and though he adores the other, he’s very, very close to punching him.

“No.”

“Let go, Mingi.”

“Never,” The pout is apparent in the Venusian’s tone, making his current state even more insufferable.

“Mingi- Mingi-mingi-m-mi-mingi- it’s up t-to our chests!” Yunho stutters, panicked. Mingi is a lot stronger than he thought, and no amount of flailing around does anything to dislodge the canis. Yunho resorts to begging. “Mingi- Mingi please- please, please, please- I know you wanna cuddle, but let go. Let go- please- let go-” Anxiety runs through his veins, needles pricking him from the inside out. 

“Mingi let go!” Yunho barks, desperate and at wit’s end.

“Mmn…” Mingi groans. “This… Is not comfortable…”

With that, the Venusian’s grasp finally relinqueshes. Yunho, unprepared for the sudden release, flops awkwardly on top of the other. He mutters a quick apology before shimmying up.

“C-C’mon, Mingi,” Yunho urges the other. “C’mon let’s go.”

“Tired,” Mingi mutters as he stirs.

Yunho focuses his gaze up as he starts his climb. The canis tries to find footholds and handholds, but everything disintegrates under his grasp. Rocks crumble and rusty metal turns to dust, leaving Yunho’s hands sore and dirty. All too soon, the canis feels water at his ankles again.

“M-Mingi, are you okay?” Yunho checks over his shoulder. He squeaks, terrified when he doesn’t notice anything. He stretches his foot down and around, but nothing makes contact. The canis yelps and turns tail, reaching into the water. He finds the other’s collar and drags him up. Somehow, he’d fallen asleep _underwater_. No doubt he’d have drowned if left for much longer.

“Mingi!” Yunho shouts. 

“Mm?”

“Mingi wake up!” Yunho demands. Now is not the time for naps, cuddles, or horseplay. His nerves are shot, and he’s starting to hear sounds from up above. They need to get out _fast_.

The other finally obliges. Without a word, he squeezes Yunho and scales the tunnel. 

“Wh-Whoa, wait up!” Yunho calls after the other. He scrambles to get a grip, but it’s not nearly as easy as the other makes it look. Yunho slips and slides as he tries to make his way up.

“U-Um, Mingi?” Yunho’s voice echoes loudly. All too soon, the water’s around his ankles again. Its rise is fast and silent, a slow, inevitable predator.

Mingi doesn’t answer, nor does Yunho see him. He doesn’t even hear the other.

“Mingi?” Yunho digs his fingers into tunnel above, but everything just turns to rubble under his grip. He’s yet again submerged from the waist down, and nerves begin tainting his mental fortitude.

“Mingi?!” Yunho shouts.

The only response he gets is the echo of his own voice bouncing back to him. It almost taunts him, the way it repeats his desperate call back in a higher pitch.

“M-Mingi?!”

Yunho no longer can find a foothold. He reaches his long arms out above him, but he doesn’t find anything to pull himself up by. He doesn’t know if floating up is safe or not, and he’s not eager to find out firsthand. 

“Mingi?” Yunho cries. Cold water splashes up to his collarbone. It chills him from the inside out, making him feel like he’ll never be warm again. The canis whimpers as he shivers hopelessly.

“Mingi! Mingi, please!” A sudden wave kicks up, and Yunho’s dragged under the surface. Nerves seizes him, squeezing his lungs and robbing him of sense. He flails panickedly, fighting to surface. However, the muscle exertion combined with the stress exhausts Yunho much more quickly than he’d thought. Thoughtlessly, the canis calls out desperately for his Mingi yet again. It comes out as nothing but bubbles.

  
Suddenly, the sensation becomes all too familiar. Yunho feels cold and resigned. His lungs squeeze, and he blacks out.

* * *

Hongjoong and Yeosang fight side by side. 

The captain huffs tiredly. These fuckers are brutal. Absolutely ruthless with almost inhuman strength. Joong looks to Yeosang inquisitively. The cyborg, equally as winded, simply shrugs.

Fuck.

  
If Yeosang can’t come up with any strategies, they’re in way deeper shit than Hongjoong thought. Joong can’t dignify the other’s stupefication with anything, because his apparent Designated Asshole charges at him. Hongjoong gasps, air snatched from his lungs by the impact.

He grimaces as he’s pinned against the wall of the lower level. He, Yeo, Mingi and apparently Jongho had managed to find good enough holds to keep them from washing away like bugs flushed down the drain. How Hongjoong wishes he could say the same for the rest of crew. A few yells and sounds have echoed up the tunnels, making the captain believe that there’s hope.

But first, he needs to shake the fuckers currently antagonizing them. Hongjoong strains against the other’s hold, but the bandit’s grip is strong. He presses his hands into the captain’s shoulders, driving the jagged rocks of the wall into his back. Hongjoong grits his teeth, face squashing into a gnarly leer.

“What the fuck do you want?” Hongjoong snarls. “If it’s not money, then what?!”

A hand moves from Hongjoong’s shoulder to his neck. The man in black wraps his hand around the captain’s throat, pressure gradually increasing. Hongjoong grabs at the gloved hand, digging his fingers between the other’s desperately.

“I excel in everything I do,” Is the non-answer Hongjoong recieves. The bandit’s voice is low and menacing, yet… Undeniably similar to one the captain knows all too well.

The captain strains against the other’s hold, but his efforts are pitiful. Even though the other is almost identical in size, his strength seems to be tenfold. Hongjoong’s head starts spinning with the restriction of airflow. In spite of it, he adamantly clings to lucidity. The captain raises a leg and kicks the bandit with everything he’s got. He kicks the other’s gut, groin - anything he can reach. 

It does nothing. Not a thing.

All it does is further spur the bandit’s efforts. He leans in, invading the captain’s space. Hongjoong’s skin crawls at the other’s proximity, and though it exhausts him, he kicks and writhes ceaselessly. Beside him he hears the struggle of Yeosang and Jongho. Yeosang’s a surprisingly good fighter. It’s unfortunate his drones can’t be of help. Luckily, his wits allow him to anticipate his opponents moves. Though he can’t equal his match in force, he exceeds him in intellect. Mingi is the least fortunate, passed out on the ground. He’s watched over by a tall bandit, and Hongjoong doesn’t know what the man plans to do with him.

Jongho is the one among them with a clear advantage. Hongjoong almost pities the poor fucker that’s been tasked with taking him down. He commends the bandit for continuously getting up. He sure as hell wouldn’t.

If only the captain had such an advantage.

Instead, he’s barely able to breathe. Hongjoong struggles against the other hopelessly. He knows damn well that force isn’t going to be his way out. The captain wracks his drowsy, deprived brain for something, anything. But what? What?

“If you’re such tough shit,” The captain’s voice is airy, strained by the hand closing around his neck. “Then why do you have to hide behind a mask!?” Swiftly, Hongjoong’s hand shoots up, and he tears off the black leather mask. He was hoping for an opening - a distraction or maybe even a show of vulnerability, nostrils he could plug, a tongue he could grab.

All he gets is a punch to the gut.

Not a literal one. A metaphorical one. Whatever breath he had was gone, promptly sucked out of his lungs by shock and consternation. It’s dim, Yeosang’s implants the only light source. Up to this point, Hongjoong would’ve called the other’s eyelights adequate. Now, he has to wonder. It has to be the trick of the light, or maybe an illusion. Because he’s not looking at some faceless bandit.

He’s looking in a goddamn mirror.

Hongjoong has heard of bandits that steal money, machinery, ships, hell even pets - but faces? That’s a new one.

Dazed, the captain reaches out and prods the features to see if they’re a projection or hologram. They feel real. He tugs and pulls at the skin - there’s the sloped nose and the distinct lips. It’s not all the same. The guy’s skin is smooth, alarmingly so. He’s cool to the touch, and his eyes are so damn smoked out. What’s most alarming isn’t just the face he’s got but the expression he’s wearing. His lips upturn into a smirk that is undeniably cocky. It’s like he’s thriving off of the shock. 

“What the fuck?” Hongjoong breathes out just barely. His body starts to shiver uncontrollably.

“Does it not set your heart alight?” The bandit asks, smile stretching wide as he leans in further.

Joong’s mouth opens with the impulse to answer. He can’t, though. He can hardly breathe, and he grasps at fleeting ideas as to how to free himself. From himself. No, he reminds himself. That’s not him. He’s hallucinating, that’s it. The captain chokes on stilted breath as color begins to splotch his vision. His head spins, and more and more he feels temptation to succumb to the dizziness.

Though his vision is almost entirely obscured by splotches of light, Joong makes out a body in the corner of his eye. It moves rapidly, and in an instant, Hongjoong’s body goes from held against the wall to falling onto the ground.

Hongjoong’s chest heaves with a gasp. He coughs, head spinning as he tries to understand what happened. The colors gradually fade from view, and in the low light of Yeosang's ocular implants, Hongjoong sees his rescue in the form of Jongho.

The youngest whales on the captain’s mysterious double. Joong wonders if he sees it, too. Maybe he sees himself - what if the bandits are using some strange tech so people see their own faces? Perhaps it disorients them and makes burgling easier? That, of course, still doesn’t begin to explain the enigmatic organization. Weird nerves still squirm under the captain’s skin when he thinks of the man’s face. He can’t stand to even glance in the bandit’s direction for too long. 

Heavy steps echo up from one of the many pathways jutting out from the lower level. Joong’s head whips in their direction, and he gasps.

Mingi lumbers up a tunnel, dragging Yunho along.

Hongjoong blinks confusedly and does a double take.

The one dragging Yunho certainly looks like Mingi. He’s a perfect mirror image of the Venusian - cut jaw, high cheekbones, narrow eyes and a sharp nose. But Mingi’s passed out a few meters away. Hongjoong’s gaze darts between the two confusedly. More commotion echoes up from another passage, disorienting the captain more.

Soon, the cavern is nothing more than a jumble of cacophonic noise and flitting shadows. The captain feels on the brink of fainting when more arrive. Mingi - or, Not Mingi - tosses Yunho beside the passed out, real Mingi. Yeosang struggles beneath the bandit that Hongjoong suspects is a double of him. 

God, that thought fucks with him.

The captain starts to feel nausea, too, on top of everything. It’s like the entire mine is spinning, and the steady rumbling around him isn’t helping. Chaos erupts at the arrival of more people. There are voices, some familiar - actually all familiar. Why are they all familiar?  
  


A figure approaches Hongjoong - no, two figures. This one’s clad in black, too. A double? Their voice is muffled, features familiar. He’s pretty. Concerned. No mask or hat. Probably not a bandit. Hongjoong doesn’t know. Where is he again?

Hongjoong stares dumbly at the person bent over him. Another joins the black figure’s side. Someone large.

No.

  
They are not large. They’re carrying someone. A person hangs off of their shoulder. They’re wet. Everyone is so wet. Hongjoong remembers that he is also wet.

What’s happening over by Jongho?

He’s gotten off the ringleader. Where is Yeosang?

Voices. There are voices. Echoes and doubles overlap making it hard to hear anything. Words come at Hongjoong. He can hear but is unable to listen. Even so, he nods, hoping to give off the impression of wellness. 

_“Bbrbrbrbrbrbrbr…”_

Hongjoong feels the quaking run up his spine. His entire body jostles, and he feels himself get lifted up. There’s a splash, a loud deafening splash, and water fills the captain’s mouth, his nostrils, his throat. Someone maintains a steady grip on him, his one tie to the corpereal world.

In spite of that effort, everything starts to fade into black, wet, cold nothing.

==============================

“Wake up,” A voice cuts through Hongjoong’s daze.

The captain jolts with a start. He gasps, coughing up water. It’s dark, wet, and echoey, meaning he’s still in the mines. Hongjoong tries to calm his rapidly beating heart so he can better evaluate the situation. There are people everywhere. It’s dim, but with the light from Yeo’s oculars, Hongjoong can see them.

Joong takes his time, counting them one by one. There is Jongho and San. Wooyoung is on the ground, leaned up against a wall with Mingi and Yunho. Yeosang stands to the side, as does Seonghwa. The water level has risen impressively, reaching up to the captain’s waist. Hongjoong looks down and notices that he’d also been propped up against a wall. The water level has risen impressively, reaching up to the captain’s waist. He can hear the steady gurgling of water spitting up from god knows where below.

They’re not alone, though.

Straight ahead, Hongjoong sees him.

He sees himself.

The captain’s heart seizes with panic, and he reflexively cowers into the wall behind. Eyes wide and questioning, he searches the faces of his crew for answers.

What the hell happened?

“It’s time to go,” The man with his face declares.

“Wha-?” Hongjoong utters.

He’s given no further elaboration. The man with his face turns on his heel. He and his comrades walk away. Joong watches their flank blankly. He doesn’t know what to expect.

  
“Scree-”

The sudden scraping of metal makes Hongjoong’s heart stop momentarily. A wide bar of light pierces the darkness. Joong follows the source to where it ends on the wall above him. He slowly comes to understand that they’ve somehow gotten up to the top level of the mine, the entrance.

Their escape.

_“Blur-! Blur-gurgle!”_

As if in response to the distribution of the structure, more water rushes into the entry chamber. 

“Come on, Captain,” Yeosang says.

“We gotta go,” Jongho remarks.

Hongjoong’s powers of comprehension are heavily impeded due to how severly fucked up his head is. Clinging to the wall behind him, he slowly rises to his feet. Jongho and Yeosang run to grab the knocked out lovers.

_“Gurgle!”_

“Shit- This is rising fast,” Jongho mutters.

_“Brbrbrbbrbbr…”_

Hongjoong slowly stumbles toward his crew. The rising waters throw his balance off, nearly causing him to faceplant.

“I think this entire entryway’s about to go under,” Yeosang says worriedly.

_“Brbrbrbbrbbrbrbr…”_

“Hey did you guys see a clone?” Hongjoong asks dumbly. He knows it’s probably not the best thing to ask at the moment, but the question is pressing and he’s too tired to filter it.

_“Brbbrbrbrbrbr…”_

_“Gurgle-gurgle!” “Splish!”_

“Shit- We need to hurry up,” Jongho curses, wading through the waist-high water with more urgency. 

_“Gurgle- splaaash!” “Craaaack-” “Brbbrbrbr…”_

The water ripples from the tremoring of their surroundings. Suddenly, a massive well of water bursts up from the wall behind. 

_“SPLAAASH!”_

“Shit-” “Hold your breath!” “Carefu-”

The ripping waters drag Hongjoong under, dragging them wherever their whims will. He thrashes awkwardly in a poor attempt to get a sense of direction. His eyes sting when he attempts to get an impression of where he’s being sent. All he notices is light.

The force of the water shoves Hongjoong toward the light. He gets pushed aggressively until it’s blinding. As if purging a virus, the waters of the mine spit him out the open door. 

Hongjoong coughs and sputters as the water thins out and seeps into the thirsty land. The others disperse around him like driftwood thrown onto the beach by high tide. Hongjoong never thought he’d be grateful for the relentless shining of Tass’s sun but, god, is he relieved. Sunlight begins thawing the hunk of ice that he’d become in the chilly depths of the mine.

Everything is sore.

So unbelievably, unequivocally sore. He’s sure that he’s sporting all manner of new bruises and scrapes. His head, throat and chest hurt in particulcar, probably bearing the brunt of the strain in his conflicts. The captain scans the surroundings for another head count.

San ended up fairly far, washed up by one of the trees nearby. He tends to Wooyoung, fussing over the knocked out human. Mingi and Yunho appear to be splayed out to the right of the entrance. They’re both covered head to toe in dirt, absolutely filthy. Yunho sits up, blinking in the sun while Mingi remains out cold. Jongho and Yeosang tend to one another right in front of the entrance. Neither appears too fucked up, all things considered.

The captain pauses.

Someone’s missing.

He searches the area, motivating himself to sit up for better vantage. Joong narrows his eyes, squinting as he searches the trees, the ground, the mine entrance. His heart drops. There’s to possibilities for where the man could be. One being that he ran off immediately, and the other being that he never made it out.

Hongjoong doesn’t want to consider either of them.

As if sensing his captain’s consternation, Yeosang finds Hongjoong’s gaze. The captain presses his lips together anxiously, and the cyborg nods his chin in the captain’s direction. Joong’s brows furrow in puzzlement, but Yeo just repeats the gesture. After a few seconds of contemplation, Hongjoong gets it.

The captain glances over his shoulder, and behind him, not a meter away, the platinum blond lays splayed out, unconscious. Relieved, the captain lets out the breath that’d gotten stopped up in his chest. Something moving in his peripheral vision cuts his relief short.

Joong jumps at the sudden arrival of the men in black. Had they always been standing in the center of the clearing, lined up neatly? He swears that all he did was blink and suddenly they’re there. While the abruptness of their arrival is startling, Hongjoong worries more about the purpose.

What more could they possibly want?

And why the hell did they leave in the first place?

Is this a ploy to toy with the poor, run down crew?

Hongjoong winces as he picks himself up off the ground. Foe or, well, slightly less awful foe (Hongjoong would never consider the bandits friends) Joong figures he ought to face them with as much dignity as he can muster. The captain schools his face into a cool, confident expression as he approaches them. He tries not to let on how much pain he’s in when he stops a few meters away from the man with his own face.

He opens his mouth to address the group, but then something else catches his attention. The captain holds a hand over his eyes, leering in the direction of town. A strange silhoutte trots toward them. A man on horseback dressed in all white.

Mayor Jonessen.

Fury boils Hongjoong’s guts. If he had the strength, he’d run up to the guy and throw him off the damn horse. Instead, he watches with his arms crossed, angry and anxious. He’s not ready to get thrown into the mine again. Of course, given the circumstances, he’s not certain he could be. The place is flooded to hell. It’s probably more of a pool than a mineshaft anymore.

Jonessen slows his horse, white, toothy smile gleaming even from a dozen meters away. The smile falls into a frown when he spots ATEEZ’s crew spread out across the mine grounds. The man’s expression darkens, and he turns to scold his hired hands. 

Before even the slightest noise can leave his mouth, one of the bandits in black, snatches him by the arm. The mayor is thrown off the horse violently. He’s knocked out cold by the force of the impact.

Hongjoong gasps. While he can’t say he feels bad for the mayor, he certainly didn’t expect to witness his retribution.

The leader smirks, satisfied, “I think you were onto something when you said it’s not worth petty cash. Now, there’s a new sheriff in town.”

Without further remark, the leader turns on his heel. The enforcer among them quickly falls into line, and the men in black walk away in unison, almost like a choreographed march.

“Wh-” Hongjoong starts after them. “Wh- Wait!” He calls after them. The more lucid of his crew follow their captain, no doubt equally as curious.

Hongjoong’s throat aches as he calls out, “Wait- Hold on! What gives!? Wh- Hello? Hello!?”

They ignore him.

“Wh-What the hell is your deal?!” Hongjoong demands.

“Go back to your ship, Captain Kim Hongjoong,” Their leader tells the captain.

“Why did you let us go?! You’re- You’re not gonna go and terrorize that town are you?”

Their leader chuckles.

Hongjoong glares at the other, not sure what the hell is so amusing about his dumbfoundedness, “Who are you? Seriously- Who are you? What are you?! How the hell are you so strong- are you androids? Where did you come from- and why did you get in with that mayor?!”

The ringleader heaves a heavy sigh and shakes his head. He turns on his heel, and the rest of his men do in unison. The man with Hongjoong’s face shakes his head as if disappointed.

“How curious humans are,” The ringleader says, shadowy eyes piercing Hongjoong pointedly. “How entitled they are to their curiosities being indulged.”

“Wha-” Hongjoong’s lips flap open and closed with uncertainty. He has no idea who he’s talking to - or what he’s talking to. “Are you not human, then?” He asks. “If you’re not human, what are you? Who are you?”

The ringleader tilts his head and answers, looking Hongjoong right in the eye:

“I am that I am.”

“You’re- you what?” Hongjoong’s face scrunches with confusion.

“I am that I am.”

“Wha…” Joong’s question trails off as the others reach up to their faces. Once again they move with complete synchronization. Those who’d been wearing masks remove them, clutching the leather in their fists by their side. 

Hongjoong reels upon coming face to face with not only himself, but his entire damn crew. As he suspected, every single one of them is a double. Near flawless at that. The captain’s mouth goes dry at the haunting visages, familiar yet different, near identical but just slightly off. Yunho’s double is the most obvious dupe, lacking in a tail. Yeosang’s has dark eyes, and San’s lacks gills. With a little discernment, anyone could tell these copies - if that’s even what they are - from the real thing. But at a glance they’re more than convincing.

“Wh… Why?” Hongjoong mutters. “Why are you… What are y-”

“Is this your purpose?” The ringleader - the phony captain - cuts Joong off, almost clipped. Whatever patience he has appears to be running thin. “Is this your journey, Kim Hongjoong? To find out who I am? What I am?”

“Wh- B- Well- I- N-No, but-”

“I encourage you to focus on your path. We will focus on ours.”

“Your… path?” Hongjoong murmurs.

“Perhaps our paths will cross again,” The ringleader says. “Perhaps not.” He nods his head, tipping his wide-brimmed hat. “Until we may meet again, Kim Hongjoong.”

He turns on his heel again, a move mirrored by all but one of the doubles. The Mingi doppelganger lingers, staring off into space. Joong follows the tall bandit’s gaze and realizes that it’s landed on a snoozing Yunho.

“Acedia, come!” The ringleader barks. Pulled out of his daze, the double scrambles to join his brethren.

Hongjoong watches, jaw dropped in awe as they disappear into the horizon. Eventaully, the black silhouettes blur in the distance, the image of them distorted by the heat. That black smear soon fades into the horizon, leaving nothing more than the faint impression of a mirage.

“Yeosang,” Joong turns to the cyborg who’d joined him. “Do you have any idea what-”

“The ship,” The cyborg squawks. “We- We need to focus on getting back to the ship. Before the Coalition gets here.”

“Uh, r-right,” Hongjoong snaps out of his daze. He feels like he’d just woken up from a disorienting nap. “Right,” He says again more assuredly.

The captain walks back over to his crew. Yunho appears fairly awake, which is a relief, and Mingi’s even sitting up. 

“What’re they gonna do?” San asks from his perch under the tree. His arm is still around Wooyoung’s shoulders, rubbing soothing circles. 

“Wh- Who?” Hongjoong asks.

“The people of the village,” San frowns. “After they’d been so kind, to know that they’d been used like that…”

“I- I don’t know, San,” Hongjoong answers dismayedly. In truth, he does still worry for the people.

But the bandit’s words ring in his head:

_“I encourage you to focus on your path.”_

The captain asserts, “That’s their problem not ours. We’ve got our own journey, just like they do theirs. Right now, we need to focus on getting the hell out. Given that we all got the piss beat out of us-”

“I’m fine,” Jongho interjects.

“-except Jongho,” Hongjoong laughs, “That walk is probably gonna suck. We better get our asses in gear.”

“Mmm- Hey,” Mingi yawns. “Is that a horse?”

Joong follows the Venusian’s squinty gaze and gasps. Yes, that is a horse. And a knocked out mayor, too. Hongjoong has a feeling the mayor will be out for awhile. The horse is fairly docile, though, surprisingly composed for having a man thrown off it.

“Uh, yeah,” Hongjoong says. 

“I love horses,” Mingi murmurs.

“Wait, can you drive a horse?” Yunho asks.

“You don’t drive horses, Yunho,” Jongho sasses.

“I’m just saying,” Mingi responds, “I know how to ride. Maybe I can help Wooyoung along so we don’t have to carry him.”

“Oh- That’s a good idea,” Hongjoong says. “If- If you think the thing will listen to you and not throw anyone off, that’d be great.”

Hongjoong feels relieved to see Mingi up and aware, but Wooyoung is still knocked out. As is someone else. The captain mutters something offhandedly about “making sure the fucker’s not dead” before going to check on the petty officer. Hongjoong knows the guy well enough to know that if he was conscious he’d have already made a break for it.

Joong kneels over the blond with a frown.

“Wake up,” Hongjoong demands loudly. 

He gets no response.

Joong rolls his eyes. Typical. Unconscious and he’s still difficult.

“Hey, wake up!” Hongjoong tries again.

Nothing.

Joong groans, looking over at his crew desperately seeking assistance. Unfortunately, they’re all occupied. San is glue to Wooyoung’s hip while Yeo and Jongho tend to Yunho and help Mingi saddle up. The captain huffs annoyedly.

“Hey,” Hongjoong tries again, lightly smacking the petty officer’s face. “Hey- hey! Wake up already!”

Now he’s getting irritated. It’s as if the fucker is taunting him, looking like a goddamn storybook character all peacefully asleep. 

“Wake up!” Joong smacks his face harder. How’s that for your fairytale kiss?

Not adequate, apparently.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” The captain throws his hands up in exasperation. “Wh-” Joong reluctantly jabs a finger on the guy’s neck. He doesn’t precisely know if he got the pulse point right, but he’s not reading, well, anything. Joong is fairly certain that “nothing” is generally a bad sign.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong hisses under his breath. “U-Uh-” He turns to his crew again. “Uh- Guys what do I do if I think someone has drowned?!” He tries not to let the nervousness seep into his tone. A few flash him baffled looks.

“Try chest compressions!” Jongho - blessed, helpful, lovely Jongho - responds from his spot under the tree.

“O-Okay!” Hongjoong nods. “Right,” He mutters to himself. “Chest compressions, I- I think I’ve seen that before…” He poises his hands above the petty officer’s chest, nervousness thrumming beneath his skin.

“Wait!” San shouts.

Hongjoong stumbles, practically flopping on top of the other.

“Wait-” The siren shouts, “-Jongho got it wrong. You need to do mouth to mouth resuscitation!”

“I need to do _what_?!” Hongjoong snaps.

“Pinch his nose and breath into him,” San says. “Four times! Then repeat if you need to!”

“Y-Y-You want me to- to wha-?!” Joong’s jaw drops, scandalized. “C-Can somebody else do it?!”

“I’m on Wooyoung duty,” The siren says, patting the passed out human’s shoulder.

Hongjoong turns to Jongho and Yeosang, both of whom suddenly appear incredibly occupied with Mingi and Yunho.

The captain wonders what hell universe he’d ended up in. He wonders if he’d travelled into an alternate dimension through the mines, or if he’d done something wrong and this is his punishment. Hongjoong contemplates the merits of leaving the petty officer to die. He ultimately opts not to, given that it’d be way less satisfying knowing he didn’t do the deed himself. Homicide he can deal with, but not mere manslaughter. The asshole at least deserves better than that.

The captain takes a deep breath.

Then another.

“Wake up,” He tries one more time.

But the man doesn’t stir. He’s eerily still. Though he would never admit it to anyone, Hongjoong doesn’t like seeing him like this. It’s weird and wrong. He’s a young guy, and, sure, his desk job is useless and, yeah, his family’s probably well off with his compensated pension. But does that mean he deserves to die? There’s so much life that the guy’s never gotten to live. He’ll never be able to dislodge the stick from his ass if he’s not alive. Hell, the fucker probably hasn’t even made his own _actual_ arrest.

“ _Motherfucker_ ,” Joong curses. He whispers, “Don’t worry, I won’t let you die a virgin.” When he realizes how it sounded, he stops snickering, “Wait- I didn’t mean it like that-”

Hongjoong ditches his lame attempt at lightening the mood and goes over the steps San told him in his head. The captain pinches the blond’s nose. With his other hand, he gingerly parts his lips. Hongjoong’s heart leaps into his throat as he lowers himself toward the other. His gaze focuses on the other’s lips. They look soft. It’s obscene, really. How are they always so perfect looking? How is _he_ always so perfect looking? Even now, on the brink of expiration, the man is insufferably plastic.

Joong doesn’t know how he’s supposed to breathe into the other when he can barely breathe on his own. Regardless of his reservation, he determinedly leans closer. He shuts his eyes. Then he opens them because having them shut feels weird. He squeezes them shut again because looking at the guy feels weirder. 

Hongjoong can feel his breath bounce off of the other’s skin, and it sets his insides alight with tension. It takes every ounce of restraint in his body not to succumb to his fight or flight response. He wants to jump onto his feet and run as far away as possible. But he’d committed to this, and he promises to see it through. Joong just barely feel his nose bump the other’s, and he parts his lips.

That’s when the precarious moment comes crashing down.

A choking noise sounds out from the man below him, and suddenly he’s violently coughing, spitting up a fountain of water directly onto Hongjoong’s face. The captain reels back, unsure if he’s more devastated at what he was about to do or what actually happened. An overwhelming part of him is relieved he didn’t have to go through with it. However, he’s also incredibly disgusted.

PO Park rolls onto his side and continues hacking up water, body writhing with each spasm of his diaphragm. Hongjoong huffs, wiping his sleeve across his face. Across the clearing, he hears something that sounds suspiciously like laughter. The captain narrows his eyes menacingly at the others. The fuckers don’t even _try_ to conceal their humor, shoulders shaking and eyes squinting with mirth. 

When he’s finally done purging the mine water from his system, the blond sits up dazedly. His eyes trace the horizon, stupefication written clear as day across the azure orbs.

“What happened?” The PO asks dazedly. Hongjoong can tell the guy’s still out of it. He seemed fine before, but he must’ve smacked his head or something during the last flood.

Hongjoong heaves a sigh, “Got out of the mine. Time to go.” He stands up, “You can walk?”

The blond takes a minute to work himself up to standing. Yeosang joins their side, and Hongjoong is content to let the cyborg take it from there. Yeo extends a hand to help the PO up.

“Let’s cling to the mountain peak,” The captain instructs his crew. “Keep out of sight. We don’t know who’s in on this shit.”

The crew nods in agreement, ambling tiredly in the direction of town. Hongjoong wrings a hand over his face.

It’s been such a long day. The sun that’d been high in the sky when they started their ordeal begins to dip. Joong prays whatever Coalition patrol the mayor had called is far, far away.

  
ATEEZ’s crew drags their feet across the muddied ground. There isn’t much conversation. A few mutter back and forth, but nobody’s equipped with the brain power to talk about what they just saw. 

All Hongjoong can think about home - the ship, the captain’s quarters, a shower, his bed. That’s what he wants for himself. 

It’s what he wants for all of them.

* * *

By the grace of whatever deity watches over them, the crew’s activities doesn’t rouse any attention. Hongjoong remembers mention of “the day of sabbath”. He’s vaguely familiar with the idea of a religiously mandated rest day. The captain hopes everyone opts to stay inside today. He doesn’t think he can handle more collateral damage. Knowing the village has been terrorized by their own mayor is bad enough.

ATEEZ’s crew left the man there, face buried in the sand. Hongjoong didn’t bother checking for a pulse or anything like that. He figures if it’s Jonessen’s fate to feed the buzzards, then the fucker will have gotten what’s coming to him. He went on about doing it for his people, but Hongjoong’s pretty sure the guy just wanted to pocket it for himself.

“Ship sweet ship,” Mingi sighs happily. The Venusian prompts his obedient steed to halt and carefully dismounts.

“Technology!” Of all crew members to break their composure, Hongjoong least expects it to be Yeosang. However, the cyborg’s triumphant shout echoes through the clearing. He sticks his arms out and bounces happily toward the hunk of glorious, reinforced metal they call home. 

“About time we get the hell off of this fucked up, country ass planet,” Wooyoung mutters, cautiously sliding off of the saddle. 

Yeosang’s already reached the loading ramp, and he whispers sweet nothings into ATEEZ’s hull as the ramp lowers. A second wind blows over the crew, and they all clamor to the ramp, ecastatic chatter erupting among them.

“I want a shower so bad!” “What do we do about the horse?” “Just leave it there.” “I’m so hungry.” “Get me off of this hell planet-” “We really should go…” “Can we make extra food for dinner?” “I can smell the mine stench- eugh-”

Hongjoong grins, eager to shower and eat - _god_ it’s been so fucking long since they _ate_. He takes a final breath of the dusty air, basking in the last few rays of sunlight he’s going to get.

“Let’s go- let’s go- let’s go-” “You think they have any beef in the rations?” “I could eat an entire cow.” “You think they’d notice if we stole an entire cow? Like, in theory-” “What’s a cow?” “Wh- Are you serious?” “I can’t think about food until I shower.”

Hongjoong feels light when his boot makes contact with the base of the loading ramp. It’s like arriving on the doorstep on his home.

No, it’s not “like” it.

He _is_ arriving on the doorstep of his home. His family chats happily, skipping, embracing, helping one another up. But there’s one thing marring the perfect ending of the offbeat idyllic picture his life briefly turned into. A shadow looms behind the captain glumly.

Hongjoong stops.

He turns away from his crew to face the man on the dirt. Anxiety knots and unknots his stomach.

Hongjoong had been thinking about this day for a long time. He’d imagined countless scenarios in which he threw the other out, tossed him out the airlock, thrown him out the still moving ship as they took off. He pictured himself dumping the other off in the middle of nowhere, cackling as the man’s left destitute with nothing but sand for company.

“That’s enough,” The captain says to the other.

The petty officer halts, blue eyes wide with confusion. His gaze searches the captain’s for elaboration. Never has the phrase “how the mighty have fallen” stricken such a chord with Hongjoong so much. It amazes him that he ever looked at the man and saw him as a threat. The man standing in front of him is practically a different person. There’s traces of him, sure. It’s not as if he’s gone completely soft or started acting nice.

But something has changed.

Hongjoong doesn’t know what, and thinking too much about it makes him uneasy.

“You’re two for zero on saving lives now,” The captain tells the other. He crosses his arms and stuffs down the excrutiating discomfort bubbling up in his stomach.

“Hm?” Seonghwa’s brows raise confusedly.

“Heard what you did for my first mate, Wooyoung,” God, it’s agonizing. Discomfort simmers in his gut.

“Oh.”

“That Coalition the mayor called is probably near town. Might be landing soon.”

If Seonghwa’s getting it, it doesn’t show on his face. The guy’s not a complete dipshit, and it irritates Hongjoong that now of all times is when he chooses not to be a smartass.

Hongjoong finally lets it out, “This is your last stop, Officer Park.” A few hushed gasps and whispers echo from the crew behind him. “End of the line.”

“Wait- What?” The blond responds.

“This is it. I told you I didn’t intend to keep you forever. You can get on with your life and fuck back off to whatever space station you came from,” He laughs wryly. “Hell, you can try and chase us across the universe for all I care. You’re not my prisoner anymore. You’re free... I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

Seonghwa’s jaw drops, and his deep blue eyes twinkle with tears.

He doesn’t say anything, though.

Not like there’s anything to say, really. Hongjoong doesn’t expect a thank you. Letting him go was the right thing to do - not something he expects a gold star or pat on the ass for. The captain starts back up the ramp. He doesn’t want to see the other’s face anymore.

Though his crew is clearly surprised, none of them dares to question their captain. They converse among one another nonverbally with exchanged gazes and astonished expressions.

Hongjoong wonders if he’d made the right call. He wonders what the other’s going to do with himself after all this. Will he make good on all those threats and chase him across the stars? Will he be allowed to? Or will he get chained to a desk again, tailing some superior officer and picking up crumbs of legitimate duty here and there?

Is that the life that’s going to make him happy?

Joong concedes it beats rotting in a cell.

Something heavy weighs down Hongjoong’s heart as he ascends the ramp. There’s a heft to realizing that he’s likely never going to see the petty officer again. Even if the other tries to pursue him, odds are the case will be put in someone else’s hands. It’s a strange, gut-wrenching feeling - one Hongjoong can’t begin to explain. He never anticipated throwing the other out would be so… So…

So _sad_.

He can’t think of any other way to describe how he’s feeling, though. He posits to himself that it’s melancholy at the transitional point in his life. It’s the turning of a page to a new chapter, saying goodbye to something and starting almost fresh and new. One less mouth to feed, one less thing to worry about. That’s all it is. Or, at least, he keeps trying to tell himself that. After all this time carrying a weight on his shoulders, he thought leaving the other would rid him of the pressure. Except, all it’s done is redistribute it. Now instead of pressing down on his shoulders it tugs on his chest.

The captain wrings a hand through his hair roughly.

No.

Hongjoong refuses to entertain the train of thought any longer.

Food. Shower. Fresh clothes. He forcibly pushes those thoughts to the forefront of his mind, playing them in loop stubbornly.

“What are you going to do next time you come across GC tech you can’t get into?!” A shout bellows at Hongjoong’s back.

  
The captain, at the top of the loading ramp, halts again. The voice immediately wrests his forced thoughts out of the limelight. Before he can even tell himself not to, Hongjoong turns to look over his shoulder. In his peripherals, he can make out the baffled expressions of his crew. They’re all paralyzed, stunned in place by utter shock.

Seonghwa continues, “And how do you expect to get past Coalition protocols when you don’t even know them?”

Hongjoong watches the other, wide-eyed. His mouth is sewn shut, and even if he could part his lips he’s fairly certain nothing intelligible would come out. So, he listens.

“I’m useful,” Seonghwa says, puffing his chest up slightly. “I- I’m clever and bright. Top five in my class. I’m a fast learner and good at fighting- way better than the captain, for certain.”

“Wha…?” The mumble drops from Hongjoong’s lips dumbly. As he predicted, no actual words can properly take shape in his mouth. 

“I like to cook and clean,” The blond tells. “I’m a- a team player…” He presses his lips together, his gaze questioning. A wave of something indescribable washes over the captain, and he starts to feel faint. Filling in the blank left by silence, Seonghwa finally says what he wanted to:

“Take me with you…?”

Joong is certain the man intended the statement to come out assured. However, the man’s words come out as more of a pitifully squeaked out question. It’s nervous and shaky and almost desperate. Begging.

“Wha- B- But why?” Hongjoong asks. He could ask dozens of questions, but in that moment only the most pressing and succinct can be managed.

“Maybe… Maybe I want to find the Treasure, too. Maybe I’m starting to realize that there’s more honor in the long journey than the static destination and that I… That I don’t want to go back to where I was.” His eyes are wet and pleading. The show of vulneribility shoots Hongjoong straight in the chest like a carefully aimed arrow. He entertains the idea of it being fakery. It could be a ruse, one last ditch effort to screw them over.

But Seonghwa isn’t dumb. At least not that dumb. He’s been given an out and had plenty of time to take it. Plus, he’s prideful, and he certainly wouldn’t make such a show of vulnerability inauthentically. Hongjoong heard how the bastard mayor talked about Seonghwa. He was present when the Coalition damn near killed Seonghwa, too. The petty officer has seen and experienced things that could, theoretically, change a man.

But did that change _him_?

Hongjoong’s mouth opens, but he can’t speak. When he tries again, nothing comes out. He chokes on air for a minute before finally holding up a finger.

“O-One second,” Hongjoong mutters before pivoting around to face his crew.

Six astounded stares look back at him as he waves his crew over. Though reluctant (and no doubt eager to shower and eat), his crew abides. The other six huddle around the captain closely until they form a tight knit circle of bodies. 

Hongjoong grimaces. As if his stomach hadn’t ached enough before, now it toils with anxiousness and uncertainty. He wrestles back and forth with his logical, rational mind and what his gut’s telling him. 

“Well?” He asks hopelessly.

“Well what?” Mingi responds. “Did he seriously ask to join our crew? After all the mean stuff he’s said to us?!”

“The petty officer’s demeanor is incredibly repugnant,” San replies. “However…” The siren presses his lips together as he contemplates his words. “He does abide by a code of honor. He is a just and honorable warrior who puts his life on the line to save others. I don’t think he’s irredeemably evil... But I still don’t like him.”

“He’s kind of an asshole, but he did save my ass,” Wooyoung mentions. “Plus we can keep tabs on him if he’s close.”

“He can also steer our ship straight into the nearest Coalition stronghold if he’s close,” Mingi says.

“Not if we set up security measures for our navigation and piloting consoles,” Yeosang adds coolly. “He’s not that bad, really. And as he said, he can be useful.”

Hongjoong bites down on his lip nervously, “Yunho, what do you think?”

“Wh- Me?” Yunho coughs. “W-Well, I- I dunno, what I think.”

“What do you mean you don’t know what you think!?”

“I mean, w-well, I’m on the fence.”

“On the fence?!” Mingi balks. “He calls you a pet and an animal. He’s a jerk.”

“I know,” Yunho answers. “I know, I know, I know, but…”

“What’s your gut say?” Hongjoong presses.

The canis shrugs, “Logically I… I feel like this is a terrible idea, but I- I just don’t get a bad sense about him, you know? I don’t feel that he’s dangerous.”

“Listen,” Jongho butts in. “I’ve read plenty of comic books in my day, and let me tell you: I’ve seen this shit before. This is a fork in the road, a formative time for the petty officer down there. We have two options. Either we let him in or reject him. This can either be a redemption arc or a villain origin story, and honestly? I do _not_ want to be on the wrong side of it by radicalizing the ostracized potential maniac!”

“Thank you, Jongho,” Hongjoong coughs out. “Anyone else have input that isn’t based on supervillain origin stories?”

The crew exchanges a few glances, ultimately responding with a collective shrug and a few muttered no’s.

“It’s your decision,” Yunho tells the captain. “You’re the leader, and we’ll support you no matter what. Whether it means throwing this guy onto the streets of Tass or, uh, welcoming the crankiest crewmate yet. We trust you, Hongjoong.”

* * *

Seonghwa’s nerve deteriorates with each minute of deliberation. He can just barely hear the cluster of crew whisper among themselves. What are they saying? Probably nothing good.

  
Why would they, after all? 

Seonghwa’s done little more than harass and endanger them. The second the question left his mouth, he regretted it. In spite of that, he didn’t have it in him to take it back. 

It’s childish, really.

Once upon a time, a young boy believed in magic and fairytales. But the boy grew up, and he left those things behind. Life felt so long to Seonghwa when he was a child. Years stretched on to feel like lifetimes, and every new summer made the summer past feel like an entirely different world. He thought he would have forever to luxuriate in the depths of his indulgent imagination.

But imagination doesn’t guarantee acceptance into your choice school. Imagination doesn’t ace tests and it doesn’t get a person through interviews. Wonder and adventure have no place in the classroom, and wanderlust gets overwritten by meticulously plotted routes when one decides to go pre-naval before secondary school.

Everything that Captain Kim Hongjoong stands for is precisely everything that Park Seonghwa had spent almost an entire life unlearning. Misinformed impulse, favoring instinct over reason, bleeding heart mercies, eccentric self expression and the dissolution of mind to mouth filters. They are complete opposites - water and oil, never meant to mix.

But, once upon a time, a young boy had all of those things. He dreamed of captaining a ship and exploring the galaxy. He dreamed of living life on the fringe, evading villains and besting rivals.

Seonghwa gasps as the crew finally disperses. Most of them disappear up the ramp.

The captain remains still. He strokes his chin almost animatedly, deep in thought, the lone person left on that ramp.

Then, he leaves. Wordlessly, he ascends the ramp.

Seonghwa remains rooted in place as he watches the other enter the ship. His ship. With his crew. Where they’re embarking on his adventure.

Despair balls up in Seonghwa’s stomach, thick, and swells into his throat. Heat rushes to his face, stinging his eyes as they well up. Seonghwa holds the tears back with adamance. He has been handed a fair sentence and he recieve it with dignity. He supposes that, ultimately, the fate had been more merciful than he could have hoped for, all things considered. He should be happy to be free, relieved.

Yet, all he can think about is the life he has waiting for him. The lonely apartment in the highrise of Southern KQ. The tall wardrobe of perfectly pressed uniforms hanging neatly. He can go back to having a reliable supply of clean underwear - that’s a happy thought. He can get back to work and hopefully sort out whatever compensation mess his MIA status has caused. He can resume his diligence at the naval police, filing reports, making calls, taking notes for his superiors, sorting data. There’s a cubicle he shares with a girl who’s name he can never quite remember. She does the same thing, as does the adjacent cubicle, and the one next to that. They all do it, grinding to prove their worth. Reliable work that Seonghwa can go back to and probably do with his eyes closed.

Another file. Another transcripted interview. Another message chain. Another number. Disposable. A cog hoping to move up, praying he’s curried enough good favor that nepotism grants him chance at promotion.

“You coming or not?” A voice cuts through Seonghwa’s downward spiral.

He blinks his tears away and tilts his head inquisitively at the captain.

“Well?” Hongjoong quirks a brow, his face unreadable. “Will you join us?”

Without hesitation, Seonghwa clamors up the ramp. It promptly lifts, and he practically rolls into the loading bay as it closes. Not a second sooner, the ship jostles with movement. They’re going up.

Seonghwa stumbles back onto his feet, dusting off his knees. By reflex, he turns toward the door of the brig.

“Nuh-uh,” The captain grunts. Hwa’s face scrunches, puzzled. The captain nods toward the stairs, “Follow me.”

Mutedly, Seonghwa obliges. His eyes dart to the doorway to the jail one last time before he’s guided up the stairs. 

Hwa tries to ignore the penetrating gazes boring into him left and right as he walks through the common room toward the living areas. It’s surreal to think that just a day before he’d been dragged through there. He follows the captain up a set of steps to the kitchen, then up again to cabins. They take a right, and the captain guides him all the way down the hall. He presses a keycode into a door on the right, and it slides open.

With a wave, the captain beckons, “Your room.”

“O-Oh,” Seonghwa gasps. He almost can’t believe the turn of events as he timidly steps into the space. It’s nice. Nicer than normal bunk setups he’s familiar with. There’s a full sized bed built in on one side and a little desk on the other. Through the window, Seonghwa can see the landscape of the planet they’d been on receding. The blond immediately crosses over to the pane, gazing at it in wonder.

This is the first time he’s seen ATEEZ lift off. From above, the large continent they’d been on appears rather unfortunate. It’s dark and dry. Jagged mountain ranges rip through it like scar tissue, and greenery is beyond scarce.

“Hey,” The captain speaks sternly, pulling Seonghwa’s attention away from the window. “There are a couple of rules you need to abide if you’re gonna be on this ship for real.”

Seonghwa nods without a word.

“First of all, if you have rude shit to say to my crew, I suggest you keep it to yourself. You’re not exactly liked around here. I’m not gonna be held responsible for you getting your ass beat because you decided to say something stupid.”

“Of course,” Hwa answers softly.

“Second, I’m your captain. You do what I say.”

“I understand.”

“You know the big room at the end of this hall?”

“Um- You mean the door right by mine?”

“Yeah. Those are the captain’s quarters,” The captain crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe.

“Wait- Would that mean-?”

“I’ve got my eye on you is what that means,” Hongjoong says sternly. For someone who can be so utterly foolish, he certainly commands respect when needed. His expression darkens as he continues, “Navigational and piloting controls are secured so only a privileged few can handle them. We killed the intersteller network routers, too. So don’t get any cute ideas of driving us into a trap.”

“I had no intention of doing so.”

“Let’s hope you mean that. To my crew you might just be the smug, pompous _jerk_ , but I know better than that. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little stunt on the Anaconda. You’ve been given ample opportunity to be free on your own fucking terms. You’ve even had plenty of chances to hurt us, too. So if you decide to wait until later to do it, so help me… If you so much as _breathe_ in a way that threatens the lives of the people on this ship, I’ll throw you out the airlock. ”

“I- I understand where I am and the choice that I’ve made,” Seonghwa answers coolly. “And you’re right. If I really wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it by now.”

“Good. Also, I hope you understand that this probationary acceptance of you as a member of my crew doesn’t mean I like you.”

“I didn’t think that at all. I apologize if I ever gave off the impression that I had some personal bias or care for you beyond the bare minimum values of respect.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you didn’t. I just wanted to make sure you understand that this is strictly professional. You’re not obligated to put on airs. As a matter of fact, I discourage it. Please do not try to be my friend.”

“Trust that my interest in this ship’s mission is entirely _in spite_ of my feelings about you as a person. I’d more readily befriend a cactus than you.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

  
Silence falls between the two, and the captain narrows his eyes, scrutinizing the man before him. Seonghwa shivers slightly beneath the heft of the other’s gaze. His life is truly in the captain’s hands. His discernment is, quite literally, the difference between life and death. Upon reaching whatever conclusion he’d come to, Hongjoong’s face relaxes.

He heaves a sigh and shrugs, “I… Can’t say I completely get why you’ve done what you’ve done, but-” He throws his hands up. “Welcome aboard, prettyboy.”

Seonghwa nods in response.

“I guess I’ll, um, leave you to it. Cell’s open in case you wanna go down there and collect your affairs,” The captain steps out of the room. “Hell, you can sleep down there if you’re feeling nostalgic!” His voice echoes down the hall.

With the other’s presence no longer arresting his attention, Seonghwa’s left at the mercy of his own thoughts. Titillation thrums beneath his skin, threatening to burst out. He shuts the door to the room - his room, his very own room. Unable to hold himself up, he plops onto his bed and clutches the sheets tightly. His eyes drift out the window, and he watches the dusty planet shrink in the distance.

“Oh my god,” The words drop from his lips, a whisper. “Oh my _god_.”

Seonghwa clamps a hand over his mouth as his body quakes. It trembles violently as tears held back for too long finally fall.

“What have I done?” A shaky laugh jumps out of his throat. “What have I _done_?!” He snorts, and that’s all it takes for the dam to break. Seonghwa laughs the hardest he’s laughed in years. The laughter takes over his body, shaking him from the inside out violently. He laughs until his abs throb, until his lungs squeeze painfully in protest and he feels like he’s going to throw up. The fit makes him dizzy, turning the quaint room and the starscape beyond into a kaleidoscope image, twisting and turning, dancing. 

Park Seonghwa, a man who planned his life meticulously, had surrendered to impulse and desire for the first time in what feels like centuries. It’s probably closer to a decade, in truth - but, shit, everything’s exaggerated to him in that moment. He laughs and sobs all at the same time, his body wailing in protest after enduring so much pain. He doesn’t know if he’s happy, sad, excited, terrified, remorseful, thrilled… Maybe it’s all of them combined. Every emotion assails him at once. All of the things he’d held back from petty joy to miserable pain pours out.

If anyone walked in, they’d think he was insane.

Maybe he _is_ insane.

Because what sane man would give up a reliable income and job security for Treasure?

What sane man steps onto a ship full of people who hate him for a shot at achieving some childhood fantasy from a storybook?

Who in their right mind would do something so incredibly selfish as to go on living when all of their kin think they’re MIA?

Park Seonghwa, that’s who.

He’s not sure where life will take him. Perhaps there really is something to the legend, and he’ll be destined to find Treasure. Or maybe he’ll die in two days because of a freak accident. So what if what he’d done was selfish? So what if it was crazy? 

He doesn’t know what the future holds, but something about that lends him more comfort than another day at his desk ever did.

* * *

Hongjoong wakes up in pain. It’s dull, at least, a faint ghost of what he’d felt prior to going to bed. He sits up slowly, assessing the situation, reminding himself that he’s safe once again. It’s hard to reorient himself. It feels like every time he gets back from one of his missions, he finds it more and more difficult to believe that he’s truly okay. He squints as dim light enters his vision. He tried to sleep with the lights off at first, but the darkness bothered him too much. He kept seeing things in the shadows, tall, broad-shouldered silhouettes with wide-brimmed hats.

_“I am that I am.”_

The words haunt him along with the visage that bestowed upon him the strange message. His gut turns with unease. They had to be androids, he thinks. Androids can be incredibly sophisticated nowadays. Though Hongjoong has no idea how the hell the crooked mayor would’ve gotten his hands on them. Even if he’d been stealing from his people, no way could he afford even one of them. 

Then there’s what he told them; something along the lines of “they came by looking for trouble”. So, what? They approached him? It doesn’t make any sense.

The captain groans, rubbing his eyes roughly. 

  
He’s not getting back to sleep any time soon.

Resignedly, Hongjoong hops out of bed, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders like a cape. He figures a cup of tea can at least quell his boredom for the interim. Plus, something warm in his belly would be nice.

The captain shivers as he pads across the metal floor. He hugs his blanket closer upon entering the drafty corridor. For a second, he stops, casting a cursory glance at the petty officer’s door. It’s quiet - not that he’d expected noise or anything. He swears he heard something earlier, but god knows it could be a myriad ship-related things.

His chest aches with uncertainty regarding his decision.

_“We trust you, Hongjoong.”_

The captain hopes that trust isn’t misplaced.The truth is, he wanted to leave the blond on the dirt. He walked away, ready to start his journey anew, unmarred by the blemish of the other’s presence. But he couldn’t do it. In the end, he couldn’t fucking do it. He couldn’t leave him there.

The captain wishes more than anything that he could’ve said something stopped him. He wishes that he could cite a precise reason for his decision, something he could explain and back up reasonably. But it doesn’t exist. It just doesn’t fucking exist. It doesn’t. Like many of his major life decisions - for better or for worse - what guided the pivotal decision was impulse and passion. Something in the very core of his being disallowed him from abandoning the petty officer. Even though it would’ve been a fine thing to do, even if it would’ve assured a relatively peaceful, easy journey moving forward. He just _couldn’t_.

But was it the right choice?

Only time can tell.

Few things frustrate Hongjoong more than not knowing. He doesn’t know why he chose to bring Seonghwa on, he doesn’t know how or why the Compass works. 

  
He has no idea who the fellas in black are, what their motives are, where they came from. Will they ever cross paths again? Or are the men in black destined to fade into the depths of Hongjoong’s memory, a faraway mirage?

Hongjoong sighs. His head hurts. His body hurts. The captain squeezes his mug when the tea’s ready. Warmth trickles in through the pads of his fingers and his palm. Though there’s nothing inherently special about tea, the comfort it lends is unmatched. 

There are some things that one will never know. The universe is vast place full of mystery. Though humankind can chip away at it, little by little, they will never know all. That’s their truth, a ceaselessly expanding, evolving reality in which countless wonders and countless horrors reside. While some lay dormant, others may be encountered. But will their true nature ever truly be known?

Perhaps, it’s not meant to be so.

And that’s okay.

That’s not Hongjoong’s journey. He yearns to uncover one of the universe’s mysteries. Just one. The Treasure. Instead of agonizing over answers he’ll never be given, the captain decides to be okay with what he has.

Feeling better, Hongjoong waddles up to the bridge, mug in one hand and blanket-slash-cape held tightly in the other. Gazing at the stars and pondering the Compass is one of his favorite ways to pass time on a sleepless night. The captain smiles as his beloved fascination comes into view, but he freezes when he notices something else.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Hongjoong barks at the platinum blond sitting in one of the pilot’s chairs. “What did I tell you about trying to-”

“I-I’m not doing anything!” Seonghwa protests with eyes wide. He throws his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not doing anything, I swear!”

“Oh really?” Hongjoong growls. “You just happened to mosey on up here for a sit while everyone else is asleep?!”

“You even told me that I can’t pilot the ship if I tried! Wh- Look- The nav won’t activate no matter what buttons I touch-”

“Stop touching it!”

“Shit- I’m stopping!” Seonghwa presses his lips together and he puts his hands up again. “I was just- I just wanted to look at it!”

“Look at what?!”

“The Compass!”

“Wh-” Hongjoong’s expression falls into one of surprise. “Wait- You were-” He briefly does an assessment of the situation. The blond is sitting in a pilot’s chair that’s turn to face the center nav console where the Compass lives. He’s barefoot in sleeping clothes. His face is sleep swollen and his hair is mussed. The sight is a far, far departure from his mental image of the sinister Petty Officer. He certainly doesn’t look like he’d been up to anything. A sheepish flush tints his cheeks and ears, like he’d been caught doing something embarrassing. Joong supposes if he’d really been making an escape attempt he’d have probably crossed the bridge and tried to knock the other out by now.

The captain’s shoulders slacken, and lets out a breath.

“Right,” Hongjoong mutters.

Now, this is awkward.

Uncomfortable pressure balloons in Hongjoong’s stomach as the two share space in utter silence. Part of almost feels inclined to say something - but what? He doesn’t genuinely want to converse. However the quiet is beginning to thicken into a noxious smog, and he’s terrified he’ll suffocate if someone doesn’t say something.

“I guess I should-” “It’s late, I-”

The two talk over one another.

“Wha-” “What did you say?”

  
They do it again.

Hongjoong’s face burns with embarrassment, and he coughs loudly. He gestures at the other, inviting him to speak.

“I-I’m going to excuse myself,” The blond chokes out, quickly crossing the bridge. The two squeeze past each other awkwardly at the narrow point in which Hongjoong stands. The captain catches the other’s gaze for a second as they sidle past one another, and he briefly contemplates dying on the spot. Recalling the unfortunate truth that he can’t simply die on will, he bins the idea.

“Good night,” Hongjoong says without even thinking. He presses his lips shut tight and turns around to hide the horror on his face. Good night? Good night? Did he just wish the other a good night? What’s next? Sweet dreams?

“Um- G-Good night,” He hears the other stutter out. Joong can’t bear to look. “Oh, and… Thank you.”

The captain’s tension drops, and in spite of himself he turns to regard the other. There’s no trace of witticism or satire in the man’s tone, nor is his face twisted into some smug expression of sarcasm.

“For what?” Hongjoong asks softly.

“For allowing me to come aboard,” Seonghwa answers sincerely. Something flickers in his eyes. Hongjoong doesn’t know what it is, but the other is already walking down the stairs before he can try to figure out what.

The captain tries to shake the strange image out of his head. He shifts his focus to the Compass, stepping into the bridge to study it as he always does. It sits calmly on the navcon, sound asleep. Its newly collected piece awaits installation in the zipped pocket of Jongho’s jacket. The crew opted to wait on installation given the events of their day. Hongjoong is eager to find out what new information they’ll glean from the addition of the piece. 

Peaceful silence falls over the bridge as Joong ruminates over the strange device. There are countless mysteries across the universe.

But, for now, Hongjoong is happy to contemplate just this one.

**Author's Note:**

> // tysm for reading this!! i love u!!!!!!!  
> twitter = @0KKULTiC  
> curiouscat = @0KKULTiC
> 
> big thank to Rose_Piano for beta-ing!


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